


wasteland, baby!

by trustsalvatore



Category: The Originals (TV), The Originals (TV) RPF, The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV), The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: Bill Skarsgard - Freeform, F/M, Naomi Scott - Freeform, nate buzolic - Freeform, nate buzz, nathaniel buzolic - freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustsalvatore/pseuds/trustsalvatore
Summary: ❝ it's not my business what you had with her, but i see that you're not free of her ❞-in which a cruel trick performed by the hollow forces kol mikaelson to remember his first love-According to science, there are an infinite number of parallel universes; you would just never know it. There are universes where the sun and moon revolve around the earth, and the world doesn’t spin on its axis. There is a universe where Kol Mikaelson is a witch on the other side; one who never learned how bloodlust tasted of sugar and spice, and died alongside his siblings at the ripe age of fifty years old.Why was it, then, that Kol had landed in the one universe where immortality had bound him to nineteen years old? And why was it that he’d found himself in a graveyard in New Orleans, staring into the eyes of a girl he’d never even met?
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson & Finn Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson & Kol Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Kol Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson & Original Character(s), Kol Mikaelson & Original Female Character(s), Kol Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue

According to science, there are an infinite number of parallel universes; you would just never know it. There are universes where the sun and moon revolve around the earth, and the world doesn’t spin on its axis. There is a universe where Kol Mikaelson is a witch on the other side; one who never learned how bloodlust tasted of sugar and spice, and died alongside his siblings at the ripe age of fifty years old.

Why was it, then, that Kol had landed in the one universe where immortality had bound him to nineteen years old? And why was it that he’d found himself in a graveyard in New Orleans, staring into the eyes of a girl he’d never even met?

The Hollow had promised him Davina’s resurrection in return for a blade. She’d looked him in the face and told him she would revive his first love so long as he betrayed his brother. He’d done as she asked. He’d given her a cursed bone and he’d ran to Davina’s grave in hopes of hearing her voice again. In the moments he waited, he’d found himself tracing the outline of her name in the cement, waiting for the day he could one day trace her lips.

As the minutes passed, he found his hope growing weaker. The longer he listened to his surroundings, the more he noticed bells and whistles were only bells and whistles. There was no resurrected Davina Claire. He’d fallen for it. The Hollow had lied.

Kol cringed when his mouth tasted of copper, realizing he’d bitten down on his tongue. His calloused fingers gripped the edge of the grave, resisting the urge to tear it to shreds. In all his years, he’d never asked for forgiveness without punishment. This was the one time he wish he’d tried.

Still, he’d heard his name whispered in the wind. It was a softer voice, a British tone hidden beneath the word. Common sense would have told him to ignore it, but he found himself running to it. Maybe it was still his Davina. Maybe she was mocking him, jesting him about his old accent and ancient life.

In another universe, it would have been his little witch, standing there in the creme dress she’s been buried in and a fearful look in her eyes. In that universe, he would have comforted her. Wrapped his arms around her and told her everything would be all right.

But standing before him was not Davina Claire. Standing before him was a scared girl in old clothes, blood decorating the collar of her shirt. Upon first glance, she looked as though she could have been from Kol’s village when he was young.

As she glanced at him, a sense of relief seened to paint her features. A smile broke out across her dirtied face, and she threw herself at him without another thought. “I’ve missed you.”

He winced at the contact, hands glued to his sides as he breathed in the smell of lavenders and blood. The same lavenders that grew in the garden at Mystic Falls a thousand years ago. The ones Rebekah would bring home to Mother every Monday morning.

Kol found his hand raising to the wound at the back of the girl’s neck. ‘How the hell was she alive?’

When the girl realized he hadn’t returned her affections, she stepped back, her eyebrows furrowed as she wondered why he’d been staring at her so oddly. “Kol?”

The words on his tongue tasted of poison even as he found himself spitting them out. “Who the hell are you?”


	2. chapter one: brave new world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kol and Aniya are off to a rough start.

❝ my life’s just a faded memory of what i can’t have ❞

A marriage to a Mikaelson was unheard of. In the thousand years the Originals had been alive, they’d been focused on one thing and only thing only: survival. They moved, every few years or so, to a new city, doing their best to escape the wrath of their father, Mikael. When word reached Mikael of where they’d settled, it was Klaus that prepared the arrangements for their departure. They would flee without sparing another thought.

Perhaps that was why Aniya was sat in the foyer, twisting at her rusted, bronze ring. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, and light jazz music bled from the streets. Truthfully, she wasn’t supposed to be awake. Rebekah had brushed out her plaits and sent her off to bed not four hours ago. In another world, she might have listened.

But Niklaus had given her the bedroom next to Kol’s. She supposed it was some kind of punishment, though she wasn’t sure who it was aimed at. Even when she’d stepped into the compound, dirtied and drowned in her own blood, the Mikaelsons had looked at her as though she were a stranger. To Freya and Nik, she’d even been seen as a threat. Some sort of vessel for the Hollow, whoever that was.

It was Niklaus that demanded a ‘head-dive,’ though she wasn’t sure what that meant. It wasn’t until the bastard appeared in front of her and grabbed her head in his hands that she’d realized what he’d meant.

It felt as though all of her memories were being pulled out of her head.

There was no way to know how much he saw, nor was there any reassurance that he believed her in the first place. He was silent when his hands fell to his sides, his face void of any emotion. It was only after Rebekah had snapped him back into reality that he dragged her up the stairs and showed her the room she would be staying in.

The room itself was beautiful, with two windows and a balcony that hung over Bourbon Street. When Aniya slept, she could hear the inebriated laughter of the people below - a far cry from the chanting she would hear a thousand years ago. In any other world, she might’ve slept with the same tranquility as an infant.

Sadly, the soft jazz and laughter was quickly drowned out by the wails from the other room. They would come at two or three in the morning, like clockwork. Often accompanied by shattering glass and the name 'Davina,’ falling from her husband’s lips. In another world, she might have blamed him; but how could you expect loyalty from a spouse that couldn’t even remember your name?

It was two o'clock now. The foyer was across the compound, as far from Kol’s bedroom as she could get. It was moments like this that she was thankful the ritual hadn’t altered her hearing. Because for now, she could pretend. She could tell herself the only reason she was awake, was because she had drinken too much tea earlier that day and couldn’t bring herself to sleep.

She could tell herself her husband would wake in the morning and become worried when he realized she wasn’t there. She could tell herself their marriage had lasted longer than two weeks before she passed, and the wedding rings they’d exchanged weren’t made from their father’s dulled swords.

And in the early morning hours, she could tell herself she was happy with how things had turned out. That she was happy to be alive.

“What are you doing here?”

Aniya was met with the cold glare of her dear husband. The jazz music seemed to fade away, the sense of peace she’d felt disappearing in an instant. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He seemed to scoff at that. A bitter silence filled the room as he crossed to pour a round of bourbon into a clear glass. He drank it immediately, lightly wincing at the taste before pouring another. Truthfully, Aniya hadn’t expected him to come here. Usually he was locked away, and Elijah would make an effort to leave food at his door. Of course, he rarely moved more than a crumb.

“You should eat.” The statement went ignored as he drank another glass. “Rebekah says Originals can still die.”

“Death is temporary, darling.” His voice was hoarse, the remark had physically pained him to say. Even the world 'darling’ tasted like poison. “Trust me.”

The younger witch leaned back in her seat, pulling the warm blanket over her shoulders. Rebekah had only owned silk nightgowns, which were particularly useless when it came to warmth. She would have been given other clothes if she was meant to leave the house, but Elijah had made it a rule that she couldn’t leave until she fit into modern-day society. That, of course, would start with her hair.

Long hair had been popular in the New World. Every morning, mothers, daughters and sisters would twist each other’s hair into beautiful plaits, decorated with flowers and herbs. Aniya had been making an effort to grow her hair out since she was a child. Now, her raven-black hair had grown past her waist, falling just above her hips in waves. Rebekah braided it into plaits each morning when she noticed how uncomfortable it made her.

She still remembered the smile on Kol’s face when he ran his fingers through her hair. He’d tried, once, to twist her hair into a simple braid. She could hear him cursing beneath his breath, and eventually cheating when he muttered a spell that embelished her hair with forget-me-nots and baby’s breath.

If she closed her eyes, she could still see the adoration in his eyes when he called her beautiful. She held onto that when she’d died. Truthfully, it was the only thing she’d had to hold onto, spending a thousand years in darkness. The thought would leave a smile on her face no matter how many times she thought of it; but now, the memory made her throat tighten. Perhaps she were better off in that darkness.

“Why do you hate me?”

The Original’s glass clattered on the countertop. His eyes were trained on the decades-old bourbon.

'Hate her?’ He glanced at the strange girl. She was curled into a ball, bandages trailing up and down her arms and legs. His sisters had given her a choker to wrap around her neck, concealing the slash on her throat and the wound at the base of her skull. She’d refused to let Rebekah heal it, muttering something about a boy named Vihaan. Part of him wanted to believe her story – to understand what had happened to her, and to comfort her; but no matter how hard he tried to dig into his memories, he was met with an impenetrable mist, and he couldn’t bring himself to fight against it.

Instead, he stayed behind it. Ran back to the memories he knew to be true, and placed a wall between the two of them. Whatever she was hiding, he didn’t want to remember.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re lying.” Aniya looked up at him, her brown eyes seeming to challenge him. “We haven’t even spoken since the night you found me.”

“Darling, I haven’t spoken to much of anyone since the night I found you. Need I remind you Niklaus isn’t exactly jumping for joy at the fact that I risked everyone’s life in favor of…” He trailed off, then drowned his sorrows in whiskey once more.

“Davina Claire.” Even when it was Aniya herself, the name still managed to cut through to her very soul. “I’ve noticed. Who is she, Kol?”

He winced, her words seeming to burn into his skin. “Someone. No one.”

“You’re lying again, and not very well,” She sat up. “Was she human?”

“A witch,” He kept his eyes trained on the windows, almost afraid of looking her in the eyes. “The Hollow was meant to bring her back.”

'After I killed her,’ Kol wanted to add. Was that what he’d done with Aniya? Killed her? Had he gone to kiss her and murdered her in his efforts to be a good partner to her? Locked away his memories, and gotten a witch to lock away the others?

“Why not bring her back yourself?” She said bitterly. “From what I remember, you were quite powerful.”

Kol’s chest grew heavier the longer he spoke. “Nature requires balance. Witches are a gift to nature, while vampires are an abomination. Any ability I had to practice magic disappeared the moment I died.”

It came out harsher than he expected. He was a powerful witch. His mother’s bloodline produced the strongest witches known in history - she’d created the spell that turned his siblings into vampires. Before he’d died, he’d even considered writing his own grimoire; write down all of the spells he created so he would be remembered by the generations to come. Perhaps if he’d kept it, he wojld have been able to save Davina. Taken her from the ancestral plane before she was punished any further. God only knew what consequences she was facing now.

“Do you miss it?” She spoke softly, staring down at her hands. She ran a finger over the scar on her left palm, murmuring, “You never went a day without magic. No matter how useless the spell was, you were always practicing. You were like a child with your favorite toy.”

Finally, he set the glass down on the counter, taking a step closer to Aniya. “Did you?”

She chuckled, “I did. But the magic I had before is different from the magic I have now. Whatever spells you put in front of me, I likely wouldn’t be able to complete them.”

“Why not?”

Aniya cleared her throat, her hand trailing up to the band around her neck. Kol’s face was riddled with confusion as she shook her head, eyes beginning to scan the foyer before landing on a glass above the fire place. A wilted bouquet of red roses - likely a gift for Rebekah. Perhaps she could find a way to break his amnesia. To remember her, even for just a moment.

She quickly set it on down the table, eyes fluttering shut as she began to mutter the spell beneath her breath. It should’ve been easy. It was a spell she could have recited in her sleep. The spell had been taught to children when they were barely old enough to read - if there was any spell she could do, it had to be this.

“Sit cadunt folia,” She whispered, hands floating above the petals.

The Mikaelson boy sat in silence, watching the witch with intrigue. It’d always been his favorite past-time to watch witches perform magic. Though, this time, it’d been different. The longer she chanted, the more distorted she would sound. It was as though he was hearing her from underwater. Even his vision had begun to go, his sharp vision suddenly becoming hazy.

Perhaps he’d had too much to drink.

Fortunately, she’d stopped, unable to even begin the spell. When she was a child, she could feel the adrenaline rush through her bones. The feeling would have leave goosebumps along her arms, leaving her hyper aware of her surroundings. She could hear the wind rustle through the trees, could feel the ground beneath her shake at the slightest movement.

Now, she felt nothing but embarrassment. She’d wanted the spell to work. Not just for Kol, but for herself. If she could continue practicing earth magic, she could turn away from the magic she’d been reborn with. The magic she had been sacrificed for.

“It’s all right. You’re weak right now. The last thing you 'ought be doing practicing is magic.” He’d said it offhandedly, his focus still on returning his vision to normal.

“I wasn’t sure you cared,” she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Kol glanced up at her, his vision beginning to focus. As she ran her finger over her hands, he couldn’t help but sigh. It felt as though there was a part of him yearning to be closer to her. To comfort her, and tell her that he did care for the little witch despite every bone in his body that told him to stay away from her.

“You should rest.” He stood up, going to leave the room. “I’ll have Rebekah make you some tea. It’ll help with the insomnia.”

The Mikaelson boy disappeared down the hall before Aniya could say another word. Before he could catch a glimpse of the faint smile ghosting across the young girl’s lips.


	3. chapter two: a common citizen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aniya bargains with Elijah, pleading with him to leave the compound once and for all.

❝ they say a woman’s first blood doesn’t come from between her legs, but from biting her tongue ❞

The first time Aniya met the Mikaelson siblings, she’d been running through the village, playing hide-and-seek with Vihaan. Their hut was only a few paces from Esther’s home, and the smell of warm broth always hung in the autumn air.

She found herself staring at the strings pendants by the window. Most of the men in the village were Vikings. They’d taken wives during their travels; beautiful, pale women with straw-blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Mikael’s wife, Esther, had hair reminiscent of an orange sunset, and earthy brown eyes. She’d always worn a locket around her neck: the symbol of a powerful witch.

From the window hung several herbs and necklaces, though Aniya found herself drawn to one in particular. A small, teal crystal hung from brown twine. Her own mother had refused to purchase jewelry, insisting that she wouldn’t be worthy until she was reborn into her new life. She would’ve given anything for an earthly object she could call her own.

It was Rebekah that greeted her at the door. She’s stood behind Aniya and tapped her shoulder, a bright smile on her face. “Hi!”

“Hello,” Aniya nodded. Rebekah was seven, only two years younger than her.

The Mikaelson girl smiled brightly, showing her missing front teeth. “My name’s Rebekah! What’s your name?”

“Aniya.” She gave the blonde a gentle smile. “Is this your home?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna come in?”

The little witch nodded lightly, and Rebekah took her wrist and pushed the door open, pulling her in. Immediately, the girls were greeted by broth warming over a fire, and Esther Mikaelson standing above the cauldron.

She greeted the girls with a smile. “Rebekah. And you – a descendant of the Grover coven, yes?” When Aniya nodded, she gave her a kind look and went to hug her. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Come!” Rebekah pulled on the older girl’s wrist, dragging her through a curtain and into another room. It was much smaller, with only only two windows and two boys sitting at opposite sides of the hut. The Mikaelson girl ignored them, instead bringing Aniya to a pillow and a blanket and fishing out a few wooden toys. “My brother made these for me.”

Rebekah put two of the figures into Aniya’s hands, looking up with a smile on her face. Aniya grinned and held them up to the light: a soldier on a stallion, and a wolf. They were beautiful.

Not two weeks later, Rebekah gifted the wolf to Aniya as a present. She hadn’t given her a reason, but the young witch was thankful nevertheless. She’d hidden it for two years before Baba found it and tossed it into the fire.

Ten minutes had passed before Vihaan came into the hovel, out of breath and exhausted. “There you are.”

“Is this your brother?” At the time she hadn’t known it, but it had been Elijah that had spoken.

“Yes.” Aniya found herself staring down at her hands. The game was over. She would have to go home.

“Come on,” Vihaan insisted. “Mama said we have to practice.”

“Right,” she whispered under her breath. Aniya lifted herself up from Rebekah’s bedding, placing the toys back into her hands.

The blonde looked up sadly. “Will you come back?”

Aniya nodded mindlessly, following her brother out of the home. The nine-year-old boy gently took her hand, leading her back to their home as though she were a stray cat. It wasn’t until that night, when she’d found a teal crystal on the inside of her pocket, that she’d decided she would visit the Mikaelsons again in the morning.

⚜

Three days after Aniya’s encounter with Kol, Elijah found himself standing in the doorway of her bedroom, knocking on the open door. She was sat against the bedframe, holding herself in such a way that made her long no different than a scared child. Her eyes were trained on the afternoon sun that streamed in through her open windows, a sense of longing radiating from the young girl in front of him.

Upon hearing his knock, her eyes toward him. She was expressionless in her greeting, though he supposed it should have been justified. “Elijah.”

He offered her a light smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“It would have been intrusion four nights ago. Now, I appreciate the company.” Her eyes seem to drift back to the outdoors. The dance music faded that once played at night, had transformed into trumpets and violins during the day. The music never seemed to fade. “I understand why you were so drawn to New Orleans.”

Elijah furrows his brows, taking a few steps into the room. He peeks theough the cremé curtains, eyes falling on the people below. He hums. “Yes, Niklaus is rather fond of this city. It was our home, once.”

“It must be beautiful.” She whispered, and her chest began to ache. A thousand years chain to Death, and nothing to show for it but scars and the inside of a New Orleans home.

“It is,” he agreed. “I assume you’re enjoying your stay?”

She shrugged, watching as Elijah took a step toward the bookshelf at the corner of the room.

“These books have been here for centuries.” He pulled a red one out of the shelf, opening it to the first page. He smiled, tracing his fingers over something at the front before struttimg toward Aniya. “This was a collection of poems written by Emily Dickinson. I retrieved it from her descendants not long after her passing. She writes quite beautifully, though most of her themes do surround nature and the concept of death. I think you’ll enjoy her work.”

Elijah handed the book to the girl, and nodded when she looked up for reassurance. The girl ran her fingers over the dried signature of Emily Dickinson, then flipped the page to begin reading. After a moment, she glanced up again.

“I can’t.”

“I insist,” he pushed the book towards her.

“No, I can’t.” Aniya shoved the book toward him, a flame seeming to ignite. “I don’t understand these letters, Elijah. I can’t read it.”

“Oh.” He seemed to swallow his words then, nodding and closing the book in his hands. Her motor skills weren’t something he’d paid much attention to. When she’d died, people had written in Elder Furthark, an old Germanic alphabet that has long since died with the Vikings. Modern-day writing was scribbled nonsense in her eyes.

“I apologize,” He murmured before clearing his throat. “If you’d like, I could find you a tutor. Someone to teach you the modern alphabet so you won’t have so much trouble.”

“What I would like is to leave the Abattoir, Elijah.” Aniya found herself raising her voice, frustrated that no one seemed to listen to her.

“Aniya, you are wounded. You have scars littering your body in places where it would be physically impossible to survive. You cannot wander the streets of the French Quarter like a common citizen.”

“Why not?” Tears prickled her eyes, and she found herself fighting the burning sensation in her throat. This moment felt all too familiar. “Elijah, please.”

Looking into her eyes, he’d felt his brain go numb. There was a ringing in his ears that only grew louder with each passing second, and the scene in front of him grew blurry, until he could only see blobs of color. A strangled noise came from the back of his throat as he found himself consumed by the world around him.

“Elijah.”

He blinked, and his vision had returned. As though nothing had ever happened. The Original gulped, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead before turning towards a tray at other end of Aniya’s bedroom. Elijah lifted a clean knife and tightly wrapped his hand around the blade.

“What are you doing?”

Without another thought, Elijah pulled, creating long slits in his palm and allowing his blood to pour into an empty glass. He winced, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and nodding in Aniya’s direction.

“If you wish to leave the compound, you are free to do so,” He stated, “so long as you drink this and allow your wounds to heal. Do you understand?”

A frustrated sigh left the witch’s lips, and she nodded, mumbling, “I understand,” beneath her breath. She understood she was a prisoner. She understood she had to leave.

“I’ll speak to Niklaus about obtaining a tutor. Until then, we’ll retrieve some art supplies and perhaps a television. Hobbies make modern-day existence much more fathomable.”

He was dismissive, and she knew then that he wouldn’t speak to her for another few days. Her eyes fell on the glass at her bedside, filled halfway with a thick, red liquid. It took every muscle in her body not to shatter it.


	4. chapter three: lavender kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the French Quarter leaves Aniya in tears, as she's forced to remember everything that she'll never have.

❝ she twirled a spoon through her coffee and fell in love with a boy across the bar for no other reason than he’d given her extra whipped cream and had kind eyes ❞

The streets of New Orleans were as bright and eccentric as Aniya had pictured. Trumpets blared, and the humans danced without a care in the world, each of them tangled in their lover’s arms. Aniya smiled as she weaved her way through the crowd, not walking in any particular direction but being all right regardless.

It was a voodoo shop at the end of the street that caught her eye. Herbs and crystals were strung at the window – not that she could use any, but it was worth a look. Perhaps she could purchase something as an apology to the Mikaelsons for sneaking out. Perhaps they wouldn’t even notice.

As she stepped into the tiny shop, her eyes fell on a dried bouquet of lavenders, and for a moment, she felt the air leave her lungs.

The first time Aniya knew she truly loved Kol Mikaelson was on the night she found herself trying to treat a simple fever. Though, at the time, it could have been life-threatening. Rebekah had begged her to blend a few herbs that would lower his temperature, as Esther had been busy taking care of baby Henrik at the time.

Aniya had hesitantly agreed, and the next morning, she found herself at the Mikaelson grovel, crushing a few herbs into a bowl. Elijah had ushered out the rest of his siblings, afraid that they would become infected as well. She watched as the older boy lied on a pile of blankets, sweat dripping down his olive-colored face.

“I am going to die, aren’t I?” Kol wheezed out. “I must be if Rebekah had to bring you here.”

A smile had formed on her face then. Ridiculous as he was, he did know how to put a smile on the thirteen year-old’s face. “I wanted to come here, Kol. It may surprise you to know, but I wouldn’t much appreciate you dying in front of me.”

“Death is temporary, darling.” He sent her a weak smile, a mischevious glint in his eye that he couldn’t seem to place. His hazel eyes landed on the bowl in her hands. “You should add dried lavender.”

“Oh, and you’re the judge of herbal recipes, I presume?” She questioned, her eyebrows dancing playfully. She took a seat next to him, holding the bowl up to his lips. “Drink.”

He struggled to sit up, and she did her best to support his weight with one arm. The poor boy winced at the flavor, immediately gagging as she pulled the mixture away from his face.

“I’m sorry!” She apologized. “Are you all right?”

“I swear to you, I saw the light of the gods,” Kol managed, pushing the bowl further away. “That was horrid.”

Aniya softly laughed. “It was never meant to taste good. It was meant to lower your temperature.”

The girl reached out, placing a cool hand against his forehead and cheek. He winced at the sudden contact. Her coal black eyes were filled with worry, soft pink lips parted as she searched for any sign that he was getting better. Amusement dancing across his developing features.

“You’re quite beautiful, Aniya Grover,” He pointed out. “I should have noticed sooner – before my impending doom, that is.”

A light pink color flushed across Aniya’s sunkissed cheeks. She pulled away, clearing her throat and turning her attention back to the herbs. “You should rest. The fever must be affecting your vision.”

“Sleep with me.” When the girl had looked at him with wide eyes, he’d only laughed. “Next to me. Please, that’s all I’m asking.”

“You must be going mad,” She’d said, running her hands through her already messy plaits. “Gods, I never realized the fever could affect you this way. I have to apologize to Esther immediately–”

It was then that he caught her wrist, wrapping his fingers around her palm as he placed a gentle – and chapped – kiss to her knuckles. “I’m not going mad, darling. If I’m going to die, I only ask that you are by my side when I do.”

Kol truly believed he was going to die that night. It was the reason she’d climbed into the sheets beside him, keeping an inch of space between them as she listened to his labored breathing. They hadn’t spoken much that day. Rather, they lied in silence as the sun set and was replaced with the moon.

Aniya blinked, and she found herself falling asleep beside the fourteen-year-old boy. As she slept, she dreamt of peace – a world she might know when she is reborn. In the dream, she is in a meadow, surrounded by lavenders and baby’s breath. Looking back on it now, the dream was hazy, and hard to look back on. All she could remember was that, for a moment in her short, mortal life, she’d been happy. And by gods, she would give her life to feel that way again.

When she woke that night, she found Kol gazing at her in silence. There was a weak smile on his face. He reached up, gently running a finger over a scar on Aniya’s forehead. “How did you get this?”

She smiled sadly, then reached up and placed her palm against Kol’s cheek. “Your temperature is lowering. The drink must have worked.”

“It would work faster if you added lavenders,” Kol pointed out.

“You’re a pain. I should make some food.” As she went to get up, Kol gripped her wrist, lightly pulling her back onto the sheets. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, smirking her at her. “You’re gorgeous, darling. You look even better next to me, though.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to.” He smiled and splayed his hands at her. “You do it for me.”

It was then that she decided to get up, ignoring Kol’s pleads as she entered the kitchen part of the hovel. She supposed Esther had taken her children elsewhere, as it seemed that no one was around to bother them. She had, however, left a soup in the cauldron. A smile danced across Aniya’s face as she swirled a spoon through it: chicken. Her favorite.

She turned and grabbed two bowls from the cupboard. Through the thin cloth, she could still hear Kol’s endless remarks, and she resisted the urge to throw the nearest object at his head. While the fever should have been something to fear, she couldn’t help but feel unbothered. Something inside her knew that the cocky bastard would live a long time before he tasted Death, and perhaps not even Death could keep him.

After all, if this was how he acted, it was a wonder Mikael had even kept him alive. But then, Aniya supposed the patriarch never did pay much attention to his son.

When the young witch returned to Kol’s side, she found him muttering a spell in Latin. In response, she’d simply rolled her eyes. “Were you born stupid, or did Esther drop you on your head one too many times?”

He sent her a glare, watching as she took a seat beside him with two bowls. “For your information, I’m practicing magic. I can’t stop simply because there’s a chance I might die.”

Somehow, that was the one sentence she found herself agreeing with. She nodded, setting one bowl down on the dirt floor and raising a spoon to his lips. “You are a wonder, Kol Mikaelson.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” He asked, after allowing her to feed him a few spoonfuls. He watched as pink flushed her cheeks, and he nodded. “I suppose that’s a ‘no.’ Have you ever thought about it?”

“You’re getting quite delirious,” She pointed out. Then, she grinned. “Perhaps I should make more of that mixture. It sure quieted you the first time.”

“I’m not messing about.” Kol frowned. “I haven’t. And I’d hate to die without at least knowing what it feels like.”

“Mm, and what might that be?”

“To kiss someone you truly care for,” He responded. He placed a hand on Aniya’s cheek and leaned in, pressing his head against hers. For a moment, she could feel her heart drop to her chest.

It was then that she stopped arguing with the boy. She placed the bowl onto the ground and cupped his face with her hands. The girl stared into the boy’s hazel eyes, which were clouded over by a hazy fog. She smiled delicately, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Despite what modern day movies would tell you, it didn’t feel like 'fireworks.’ Kisses with Kol almost never did, unless they were sneaking off or hiding.

No, most of the time they were warm. They tasted of autumn, of coming home to your lover after a day of labor. They felt like a home she’d never actually experienced herself – but by gods, she would have liked to. When she kissed him, she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in his arms and fall asleep once more.

As she pulled away, she noticed a slight smile on Kol’s face. “I don’t remember anything before you, darling. I’m afraid my soul can’t bear to be without yours.”

And then she sighed, resting her head against the boy’s, overwhelmed with exhaustion and despair. If this was the only good thing left, she would accept it. Kol Mikaelson had never been hard to love.

Perhaps that was why she found herself purchasing the bouquet of dried lavenders. She found that they’d become her favorite flowers. In the wake of something terrible, the least the universe could give her was a few purple flowers. She handed the woman behind the counter a crumpled piece of paper, and the woman stared at her, bewildered.

“I asked for ten bucks, not a hundred,” She pointed out. “I don’t have enough change for this.”

“Keep it,” Aniya had responded. The Mikaelsons had more important things to worry about than money these days. She doubted they would even notice it had gone missing.

She took the flowers from the counter and pushed herself out the door, only to be hit with a humid breeze and music. The girl chuckled lightly and turned the corner, wandering off in search of food. She followed the smell of spices and burning meat, only to find herself at the doorstep of something labeled 'DINER.’ Aniya winced at the strange lettering.

As she entered, she noticed it was mostly empty, apart from a woman behind the counter and a boy a few feet away. He looked no older than her – eighteen, perhaps. He was tall and pale, with bags beneath his eyes as he was folded inward in a strange way. He looked terrified.

Aniya took the seat at the counter closest to the door, eyeing the menu in front of her. Modern alphabet. She groaned internally, suddenly wishing she’d taken up Elijah’s offer.

“How can I help you, sweetie?” The woman behind the counter asked. She had curly red hair tucked beneath a white cap and faded blue eyes.

“I’m not sure what to order,” She admitted, pushing the menu away from her vision. Simply looking at it seemed to strain her eyes, as though every part of her being was screaming 'you don’t belong here!’

The woman nodded. “How about I get you a milkshake? On the house.” She moved in closer, her eyes drifting to the boy a few feet away. “His name’s Henry Pearl. He could use a few friends.”

She went to create the milkshake, and Henry looked up at her through his lashes. “You don’t have to be friends with me if you don’t want to. Ruby just really wants me to make friends.”

“It’s all right. I could use a friend,” Aniya admitted, before introducing herself. “Mt given name is Aniya Grover.”

“Henry Pearl, but I guess you knew that already,” He mumbled nervously. He looked down at the coffee cup in his hands. “Sorry.”

Aniya nodded. “Why are you out? It’s quite dark.”

“This is my favorite time of day,” He admitted, running his fingers through his messy brown hair. “What about you?”

“My family was getting a bit overbearing,” She stated. Her eyes drifted to the lavenders in her hands. Family was a strong word. Could she call them that? After all that’s happened, could she bring herself to call then 'family’ when they rarely even spoke to her?

When Ruby placed a cold, clumpy mixture in a tall, white glass in front of Aniya, she’d simply stared in bewilderment. Across the counter, she heard Henry chuckle. He pointed out, “You should add some more whipped cream to that. It makes it a lot sweeter.”

“Whipped cream?” Aniya questioned. She watched as he took a can out from behind the counter and crossed the room. He pressed down on the nozzle and a fluffy, white mess came spilling onto the top of the shake. “What is that?”

“Whipped cream,” He repeated, as though it were obvious. His kind, green eyes met her sad ones. “We should be friends.”

And for the first time in a thousand years, a smile danced across Aniya’s face. A blush formed in her cheeks beneath the tall boy’s gaze, and she couldn’t help but look down. “I’d like that.”


	5. chapter four: our gentle sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Kol and Aniya's relationship a thousand years ago.

❝ you love him despite the burden of atlas resting on his shoulders, and he still loves you despite the death still clinging to your lips, and the blood drying at its corners. what a pair you make ❞

To love young Kol Mikaelson would have been to love the Sun God himself. To love a wildfire – not quite raging, but refractory; the way martyrs always were. To love the way he held you, provided you with a warmth reminiscent of a winter fire; and to love the way he burned even warmer in the summer months. And gods, you loved the summer months.

To love the young Mikaelson was to love the way his kisses tore the breath from your lungs. Your heart burned when you pulled away, for you knew the smile on his face belonged to you; but it wouldn’t be for long. You knew he was never meant to be yours.

To love Kol Mikaelson was to love the burnt embers at the end of the night. Once the bonfire has ended, and everyone has returned home. It was to sit and watch the faint flickering in the dead of night, a bittersweet lingering on the tip of your tongue as you watch the fire that had kept you warm for so many years. You watched it burn out.

“Close your eyes,” He’d whispered, hands on Aniya’s shoulders as he guided her. He lifted his hands for a moment, waving them in front of her face. “Are they closed?”

“Yes, Kol,” She laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Am I to assume you’re not going to murder me?”

“I could never murder that beautiful face.” He brushed his finger along her face. He smiled gently, and took her hands, leading her once more. “Tell me, darling, do you know what today is?”

“No…” Aniya frowned, trailing off. Her hands gripped Kol’s gently. “What day is it, my love?”

She grinned as he placed his hands on her face, fingers coaxing for her to open her eyes. They met eyes, and she swore she could feel her heart leap from her chest. There was no happiness quite like this.

“Sweet Aniya,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her sweet lips. The eighteen-year-old boy rested his forehead against his lover’s, mischief flashing in his hazel eyes. “Two years ago today, you agreed to court the most powerful witch in the village.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t remember ever choosing to court myself.”

“Darling, don’t fool yourself. I could best you in a duel with my eyes shut.”

“I could best you in a duel while in a slumber, Kol.”

He smiled happily. If there was one thing Kol Mikaelson adored more than his magic, it was a challenge. “And it is reasons such as that, that are the reason I have fallen so deeply in love with you, Ms. Grover.”

She threaded her hands through his dark auburn hair, holding him close to her body. Kol had never made a secret of how much he’d cared for her these past two years. Despite the fact that they were very much a secret in the eyes of the villagers, he’d made sure that no woman or girl had her eyes on him. He belonged to her, and her alone. How wonderful it was to have something that was truly hers – even if it was just for the time being.

Even as they stood in the middle of the forest, even as Kol whispered sweet nothings in her ears, she knew that she would love him until his face was fogged by distant memory. Yes, she would love him five centuries from now, when his body had returned to ash and she would be standing in a ballroom, surrounded by foolish bastards. Kol wouldn’t learn of the rituals she would have to participate in one year from now.

If she was lucky, he would never have to. But then, what were the chances of that?

“Now, I suppose we should focus on the issue at hand. Though, if you were to expose the skin beneath your dress, I wouldn’t so much as complain.” Kol pulled away, using his thumb to brush away the thin sleeve of Aniya’s dress. It exposed her collarbone, and she shuddered a bit at his touch.

She lightly pushed him off, rolling her eyes. “Kol, we haven’t even married. It would be sinful.”

“Darling, there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin,” He responded smoothly. “And that is why I’ve brought you here.”

“To the middle of a forest?”

“Would you let me finish?” Aniya snorted and motioned for him to continue. “Two years ago today, you agreed to court the most powerful male witch in the village, and it was perhaps the best day of my existence. Now, we’ve reached an age where I think…”

He took a knee, and held Aniya’s hand between his fingers.

“I think it’s time we get married. Don’t you?” Kol placed a kiss to her knuckles, his hazel irises never once leaving Aniya’s brown ones.

“Kol, my father…” She trailed off, looking behind her as though she were afraid they’d been followed. Afraid they would be seen. A marriage to a foreigner had never been apart of the rituals.

“Damn your father, and damn mine. All that matters to me is that you become my wife one day. That one day we will grow old together, and have beautiful children we can call our own.” Kol stood, arms wrapping around his girlfriend’s waist as he held her close. “We could run away together, you and I.

"To a new village, where we could start our own coven and practice magic with our children by our sides.” He leaned forward, and Aniya swore she had never seen him so vulnerable. “Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do,” She whispered mindlessly, lost in the color in his cheeks and the fire in his eyes. He was always his most beautiful in moments like this.

Kol pulled away, placing his hands on her face as he looked deeply into her eyes. He searched for any trace of regret, or fear. “Marry me.”

“Darling, we can’t we enjoy life as it is?” She pleaded. She knew in her heart she would never be able to leave the village – at least, not in her lifetime. “Don’t you enjoy this? Courting me? Why ask for a change?”

He sighed, taking a step back. “Will nothing change your mind?” When Aniya shrugged, he smiled, taking her hand in his and running into the nearby lake.

“It’s freezing!” She yelped as Kol dragged her beneath the water. Her eyes were sewn shut, terrified that something would crawl into her eyes and she would go blind. Kol only laughed and brushed his thumb over her eyelids, coaxing them open from beneath the water.

A smile formed on his face as he looked into her warm brown eyes. Her usually neatly braided plaits floated in the green waters, and she playfully glared at him, pushing him away. Kol would have sworn she was a goddess right then and there, for the only heaven he’d ever known was the one he’d found in her presence. Their gentle sin had always been his favorite form of mischief.

He pulled on her wrist and placed a soft peck on his lover’s lips. Her hand flew to his cheek, and she deepened the kiss, her legs wrapping around his waist despite the wet fabric clinging to her body.

After a few moments, the two teenagers came up for air. They were met with sunlight and songbirds, and a blush creeped onto Aniya’s face. Of all the places Kol had brought her two in their two years of courtship, this might have been the most beautiful.

“I found it when Mikael took me hunting,” Kol explained, as if reading her thoughts. He wrapped his arms around her body and smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I love it.” Aniya laughed, turning her face to the beautiful boy she’d managed to snatch from the girls in the village. His angled jaw and godlike features had never been easy to ignore. “मैं आप से बेहद प्यार करता / करती हूँ. I love you ahead of everything else.”

“मैं भी आप से प्यार करता / करती हूँ,” He responded. “I love you, too.”

Aniya grinned. “Oh? Trying to learn from Vihaan, I see.”

“Our children will know every language the world has to offer,” Kol boasted. He placed a kiss to Aniya’s jaw. “All you’ll have to do is say ‘yes.’”

“Hmm,” Aniya hummed. She pretended to think for a moment, then pushed her lover’s head beneath the waters. A laugh left her lips, but she was cut off when a hand grasped her ankle and pulled her under.

Truthfully, she would have given anything to have a future with Kol Mikaelson. As far as she was concerned, he was the love of her life; but it would be one year until the final ritual. One year until she would be resurrected into a new life, with magic she wasn’t even sure she could bare to pass onto her children.

And Gods knew she would give birth to witch twins one day. Kol had told her she was being ridiculous – but in truth, what if she wasn’t? Her mother had barely survived giving birth to herself and Vihaan. Her father had to swear a vow to the gods that they would follow the rituals so long as they kept their mother alive. Baba had always been too fearful to see what would happen if he so much as changed his mind.

On the walk back to the village, Kol had given her his shirt to dry herself off. He hadn’t wanted her to get sick, so he returned to his home wearing only a pair of pants and a belt. It was ten paces from her doorstep that Aniya had been met with a fuming Vihaan.

“Where have you been all evening? Ae were meant to practice spells with Baba,” Vihaan hissed at his younger sister.

“With Kol. You knew that,” Aniya responded, as if the answer had been obvious.

“No, Aniya. I don’t know that. You’ve been sneaking off so often that I’m kot even sure how to keep track of you anymore.” He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m meant to protect you.”

“I understand that.”

“No, you don’t,” Vihaan snapped. “Do you understand what the next ritual is? Baba wishes to have it on the next full moon.”

Aniya froze, her breath getting caught in her lungs. “We’re not meant to perform that ritual for another few months.”

“He wishes to appease the gods. It’s a major astrological event. The Gemini moon cycle will begin soon. Mama agrees.”

According to the Book of Spells, the witch twins must complete twelve tasks before their eighteenth name day in order to be reborn. Aniya and Vihaan had completed fourteen. The fifteenth through seventeenth had been saved for when the twins were much older. Baba had mentioned it so rarely that Aniya might have forgotten it if she tried. Still, the task was burnt into her memory so deeply that even now she couldn’t go into shock.

Task Fifteen: In order to prove that the Witch Twins are worthy of a life among the reborn – that they share the same passion, drive, and desperation to be blessed with immortality – the spawns must consummate their love for one another, both physically and spiritually. This act will bind their souls into one. When one child is rebirthed, the other one must be as well.

Aniya shuddered at the passage, and pulled away from Vihaan’s touch. He’d always been her brother. The person that looked out for her when no one did. Their souls had always been connected spiritually. They had been brought into the world together, and they would be taken from it together. What was the use in trying to prove it to the gods?

“I’m so sorry,” had been the first thing to come out of Vihaan’s mouth. The taller boy reached out to his sister, only to be met with air as she pushed him away.

“Our parents wish to wed us into an unhappy marriage and that is all you have to say? I wish to marry for love, brother, not for magic. It’s incestuous–”

“And it is the law.” Baba pushed open the door to their hovel, and Aniya shrunk back at the sight of their father. “You will marry, and you will be reborn into a new life. You will fulfill the rituals that your mother and I have laid out for you since before your hands knew the feeling of dirt, and you will not fail me. Do you understand?”

Aniya nodded, and followed her brother into the tiny hovel they once called 'home.’ Baba would be right, she had told herself. She would marry, and she would know the feeling of rebirth in the arms of the man that loved her the most.

Kol Mikaelson’s.

_______________

author’s note: for anyone that’s confused, basically, one of the rituals that vihaan and aniya had to do in order to be reborn as immortal witches, is they have to marry each other and ensure that the marriage is consumated. trigger warning for future chapters.


	6. chapter five: beautiful boy

HENRY PEARL'S HEART BELONGED TO WOODLAND FORESTS. His peridot eyes were reminiscent of fae portals hidden beneath large oak trees, flecks of gold dancing in his irises. His passions belonged to oil paints and coffee, and Aniya swore she would know know him blind.

She confirmed her suspicions as she watched the boy paint in his studio apartment. He hadn't completely moved out of his father's home, so it was mostly empty apart from the stained canvases that covered the wooden floors. Henry was stood shirtless, with a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other as he painted the tiny details onto the flowers surrounding a tiny cottage. He hadn't noticed her standing by the door yet.

Internally, Aniya couldn't help but wonder if she could ever bring herself to love him. In the same way her husband had loved his mortal.

She'd been sneaking out of the Abattoir every night for two weeks. In modern time, that is. She would leave every night when the clock struck twelve, and return at five. Rebekah had pointed out the dark circles beneath her eyes once, and Klaus had complained about how often she slept; but the Mikaelsons were quiet apart from that.

Henry would wait for her in the diner every night. Every two nights, he would be working, so she would spend her time at the counter as he offered her plates of waffles and vanilla shakes. He'd caught a glimpse of the scar on her neck once, when she tied her -- Rebekah's -- scarf too loosely. He only motioned for her to move it, and never brought it up again. Perhaps that was her favorite part about Henry. His ability to make her feel human.

Aniya had gone to the diner in search of Henry, but Ruby had told her he was at his studio. She would have gone and walked around the Quarter for the rest of the night if Ruby hadn't given her directions.

"It's a beautiful piece," Aniya said after a moment. A light smile played onto her face when the boy jumped, quickly turning to see the younger girl. "I don't know much about art, but I know beauty when I see it."

He blushed, soft shades of pink rising to his ivory cheeks. "I'm glad. It's a piece I'm working on to give to that art shop downtown. They pay pretty well. Enough for me to get this place, so..."

"Yes, well, the home is beautiful as well." Aniya walked towards Henry, who, despite his hunch, was still several inches taller than her. She turned to face the painting. Three beautiful, pale-skinned girls danced across the painting wearing bright, flowy dresses. They smiled, immortalized in a green, woodland forest as flowers grew from their fingertips up their arms. Earth witches. "Do you usually paint völva? Pagans, you call them."

"Yeah," Henry said with a shrug. He set down his supplies on a nearby desk, unbothered by Aniya's speech patterns. "They're probably not real, but it's nice to think there's magic in the world. My mom was super interested in that fairytale stuff, too. I guess it reminds me of her."

Aniya's eyes flickered to the photos he'd taken of his artwork, taped in rows across his walls. Paintings of women, mostly, of women in the cemetary. She frowned. "It'd rather invasive, don't you think?"

"Oh, those aren't just regular people grieving or anything!" Henry said quickly, his eyes nearly jumping out of his head. He quickly approached Aniya and stood by her side. "They're New Orleans witches, according to myths and stuff. Legends say they practice ancestral magic."

"New Orleans witches?" Aniya's dark brows knitted together. "What do you know of them?"

"They're supposed to be really powerful." He said, taking a step closer to the photographs hung from his walls. He was rarely able to keep his paintings, so he preserved his art in the only way he knew how. His gaze fell on a young girl -- likely seventeen years old -- with light brown hair and crystal blue eyes. They'd called her a harvest girl. "They harness their magic from the their ancestors."

"How much do you know of witches, Henry?"

"It's... a hobby," He laughed nervously. The 'older' boy reached up, scratching the back of his neck. It was endearing how nervous the Pearl boy could be at times. The name truly did suit him. Pure; beautiful; his heart itself was worth thousands. Aniya would know his tender charm by touch alone -- she would know him blind.

"And of black magic?" She watched as he shook his head, biting nervously at his bottom lip. As if she would condemn him, even as she reached her hand up to touch his swollen and reddened cheek. Purple bruises were forming on the bones beneath his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Forget I asked of it."

"It's okay. I-I have a b-b-book at my house. It has, um, it has really beautiful art -- pagan stuff -- but it's all, uh, it's all in Latin anyway. I can give it to you, i-if you want?"

"I would appreciate it. Thank you." Aniya took a step closer to him, her touch gentle, and still he didn't look at her. A pained smile crossed her face, and she pressed a soft kiss to the bone beneath his eyes, where yellow bruises had formed. She had seen marks like that before, but she wouldn't ask. She couldn't bring herself to.

"So, do you use, um..." Aniya held her hands up, fingers forming a rectangle as she made a clicking noise with her lips. She'd seen Hayley use it, at some point, on her daughter, Hope. An odd-looking device.

Henry stared amused and confused for a moment before the concept came to his head. He quickly turned and walked towards his kitchen cupboards, reaching in and pulling out a black and silver device. "This?" When Aniya nodded, he told her, "It's a, it's a camera. People use it to take pictures. Look, smile."

The boy walked towards her and held the camera up to his face. When she only stared oddly, he laughed and pressed a small silver button. A flash went off and Aniya stumbled backward, cringing at the light.

"It's all right, don't worry," Henry comforted, resting his hand on Aniya's clothed shoulder. When a small, white piece of paper emerged from the bottom of the camera, he slipped it out and set down the camera, heading towards the light and placing it down. "Most people will shake it, but you're not supposed to do that."

"It was empty." Aniya frowned. When Hayley had used her camera, there was a photo of her small, red-haired daughter on it. Had it been empty because she had died? She was almost positive she wouldn't have to explain it to Henry, he never seemed to ask any questions, but it was still saddening.

"It's supposed to be," Henry explained. He walked back to her, leaning down to her height. "How it works is you, uh-- you take a photo, and then it comes out, and you wait for it to develop. Then, you have your picture."

Aniya hummed in response, and then turned to prop herself up on the bare marble countertop. She lied back, resting her head against the cool stone and shut her eyes as she felt the cold temperatures seep into her -- Rebekah's -- black turtleneck sweater. She felt eyes on her, and turned to look at Henry, who was stood, watching her with an admiration she'd last seen a thousand years ago.

"What are you doing?" She asked curiously, brows raised at the beautiful boy.

"Looking at you," He admitted, before turning back to his paintings. Tears welled in her eyes and she closed her eyes once more, allowing herself to be consumed in darkness and sweet words for the night.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The journey home was quiet. Henry had offered to walk her to the Abattoir, as he always had, but Aniya refused. She didn't know much of the Mikaelsons' desire to feed. She couldn't have him die on her behalf. If there was one thing he deserved, it was the privilege of staying away from who she truly was.

The walk was longer than the one from the diner, as it had taken about fifteen minutes in modern time to travel from the diner to his 'studio,' they had called it; but she'd had a photo to keep her company. It had been the photo Henry had taken of her earlier, in which she stared into the lense with nothing but a cartoonish look on her face. Her obsidian features had been emphasized by the bright flash of light, her once dark brown eyes and hair nearly obsidian in the photo he'd taken of her.

It was when she felt a cool blade pressed against her throat that she finally dropped the photograph. She swallowed as she heard a raspy voice in her ear, the air beginning to escape from her lungs.

"Your money," The human demanded. "Give it to me, now."

"I haven't any money," Aniya gasped out, clawing at the flesh on the human's arm. "Let go of me, please. I don't want to hurt you."

The blade was pressed closer to her throat, nearly opening the wound that had taken weeks to close. The human's actions were clear. If she wouldn't give her money, she would die; and even reborn witches were not immortal. The human was closer to her ear now. She could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, "I'm not gonna be the one getting hurt tonight."

He clasped one hand around her mouth and another behind her head, squeezing together. Her body cried out for air, and she scratched violently at his arm. The world around her seemed to fade into darkness, and Aniya felt her will to fight grow weak with each passing moment. Perhaps death would be merciful this time.

'You know what to do; so do it. Do it now,' Vihaan whispered. 'Don't be afraid. Do it now.'

"हाथ," Aniya murmured. As the word left her lips, she felt something push itself forward. Something more powerful, as if guarding her from the terror that would ensue. Her neck snapped to the right, and the human's knife fell to the ground. She turned and watched the human collapse into the brick wall beside them, his wrist twisting backward as he cried out.

'Again.'

It should have felt draining. She should've felt exhausted just whispering the spell, but then this was the magic she was given. What was once terrifying would become natural to her.

"धार." The blade twisted its direction, turning to face the now terrified human. Aniya swallowed, whispering prayers to herself as she snapped her wrist. The silver dagger travelled across the concrete and landed in the shoulder of the man that had attacked her. A shaky breath left her lips, and she took a step away from him as a wail left his throat.

She turned to pick up the polaroid photo that had fallen to the ground, the edges now covered in dirt. She was quickly blocked by a tall figure -- one that she would recognize if the universe had struck her dead.

Oh, yes. It already had.

"How did you find me?"

"Hope Mikaelson is a powerful little witch," Kol said, as if it were obvious. His eyes flitted to the injured man only a few paces behind her. "And it seems you are, as well. Would you like to tell me what you've been hiding, or shall I delve into your pretty little head and find out?"


	7. chapter six : falling

❝ what am i now? what if i'm hoping   
you'll come around? what if you're   
someone i can't live without?❞

NOT ONE HOUR AFTER KOL HAD FOUND HER IN THE QUARTER, Aniya was sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded as she twisted the rusted bronze ring on her left finger. She let her gaze fall on Kol, who was in the bathroom, twisting water out of a small white rag. She bit the inside of her cheek, pulling at the skin on her fingers. They hadn't said anything on the walk home. To be frank, she wasn't even sure they'd looked at each other. She hadn't wanted to.

Kol walked back into the main bedroom, and kept his eyes fixated on the walls as he handed her a warm washcloth. "This should help with the nerves."

Aniya hesitated, but took the cloth from him, holding it in her hands. "Thank you."

It was odd, seeing him in such a different form. Aniya had sworn centuries ago that she knew Kol. That she could predict his actions, read him like the back of her hand; but she didn't quite know who this boy was. He'd gone out of his way to bring her into his bedroom, and though she hadn't known why at first, she realized it now: he had wanted to help her. Though he no longer possessed the same healing herbs and Earth magic that he'd had before, he still tried to help her. It dawned on her that perhaps she didn't know him quite as well as she thought she did.

"How many times have you passed?" Aniya asked, staring down at the cloth she'd wedged between her fingers. As if it had been her hands that needed cleansing. "Died, I mean. How many times?"

"I've lost count," He admitted. "There was the first time, when my father drove a sword through my heart when he and my mother turned us into vampires. Then, there was the second, when this doppelganger and her brother decided to kill me -- and it was odd, considering I'd known the original. My brother, Finn, hexxed me once, when I inhabited the body of a witch. I believe that was the last time?"

"I'm sorry, doppelganger?" She questioned. As far as she was concerned, there hadn't been any doppelgangers in the village. "Who was the original?"

"Tatia Petrova."

Smoke poured from Aniya's ears the moment he'd said her name. She clenched her jaw, squeezing her hand into a fist. As childish as it sounded, Aniya had always been envious of Tatia Petrova. She'd been married, of course, to a Viking husband when she was much younger; but he'd died in war. Aniya had only met her a few times, but she'd seen her out with Niklaus and Elijah in the village.

For some reason, she couldn't stop the jealousy that formed every time Tatia so much as stood too close to Kol. She'd tried to blame it on the fact that Elijah and Nik had fallen in love with her, but she'd realized it the day she saw Tatia dancing by a bonfire one night. Tatia was free. She had no husband to weigh her down, no arranged marriage or rituals to keep track of, no death hanging above her head on her eighteenth birthday. Kol had never shown any interest in Tatia, but if he had, Aniya was sure he would've been much happier.

"Tatia," Aniya nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and further picking at her wedding ring. There were moments when she felt as though it shouldn't have belonged to her in the first place.

Kol glanced at her. "Who gave that to you? Was it the human you've been visiting?"

"No," She quickly shrugged him off. Henry didn't deserve to be put in danger because he'd made the mistake of becoming her friend. She hesitated, but pulled it off her finger, holding it out to him. He'd engraved it before their wedding, and she'd engraved his; though, from the looks of it, it was likely that she would never see his ring again.

The Mikaelson furrowed his brows and took the ring, flipping it into his palm. To be blunt, the metal work was terrible. It was uneven, thicker towards the back and thinner at the front. It was bumpy and chipped towards the edges, though they weren't so sharp that Aniya would hurt herself. It was a wonder how she work the ring so comfortably, though. Upon closer inspection, he noticed messy words carved on the inside.

'मैं आप से बेहद प्यार करता, amor vincit omnia,' It read in tiny font. 'I love you ahead of everything else,' in Hindi, and 'love conquers all,' in Latin. As Kol studied the tiny piece of jewelry, he could feel static building in his brain. His vision began to blur, a low ringing growing in his ears the longer he looked as it. It was as though his body was physically rejecting it. Only then did it dawn upon him that the material used to make the ring was oddly reminiscent of his father's old swords.

"Did one of my siblings give this to you?" Kol asked, doing his best to ignore the supernatural migraine that was taking over his senses. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to meet eye contact, and it clicked. "Do you expect me to believe I gave this to you?"

"I don't expect anything from you, Kol," Aniya said with a sigh. She took the ring back from him, sliding it back onto her finger with ease. In truth, she was beginning to feel its loss. "I never have."

She set the cloth down beside her, standing in an effort to return to her bedroom. Kol caught her wrist, and before he could speak, his vision faded to white. Aniya watched his eyes go blank, and he was motionless. A few seconds passed before it occurred to her that he was looking through one of her memories. She all but snatched her arm away, holding it close to her chest as Kol struggled to regain his grip on reality.

He looked as though he'd been pulled out of water, sucking in a deep breath. He blinked rapidly, as though he were trying to focus his vision on a specific image. Unfortunately, that image had been Aniya.

"What did you see?" She demanded, tightening her grip on her wrist. He'd looked into her memories, and there was no way for her to know what he'd seen or heard. Regardless of whether he meant to look inside her head, it was violating nonetheless.

Kol cleared his throat, taking several steps back. If her memory had served him right, he had been the one to give her that ring. He had been the one to ask her to marry him, and he had been the one to hold her close when the priest declared the two 'man and wife.' His gaze softened at the girl in front of him, her long dark waves and ebony eyes contrasting her brown skin. It occurred to him that if the moon smiled, it would resemble her. In the rising sunlight, she left the impression of something beautiful, yet annihilating.

He winced at his own thoughts, his teeth snapping together when he clenched his jaw. He sneered at her, "What was that?"

"I couldn't tell you, Kol, I don't know what you saw," Aniya hissed.

"I married you," Kol whispered, his eyes falling to his left hand. He remembered a bronze ring he wore on his left finger during the first half of his immortal life. He was never quite sure where he had acquired such an object, but he supposed this explanation was as good as any. It must've been hers.

Still, he swallowed the lump in his throat. His mouth had gone dry, and the sides of his head were pounding. Surely she was simply a witch -- a powerful one, if she was able to fool him so easily. There must have been records of him wearing it, and she had found them and decided to deceive him.

"I am not lying to you," Aniya said sternly, realizing what he must have been thinking. She let her arm fall to her side and took a step closer to Kol. "I could never lie to you."

Kol watched as she raised her hand to him, holding it next to his face. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she held her breath, waiting for him to lash out at her. If he were his father -- or hers -- perhaps he might have. But instead, he held her wrist in his and leaned into her touch, ignoring the electricity that ran through his body the moment they touched. The static grew more prominent as Aniya showed him her memories, and he swore the world around him began to glitch.

He watched as a younger vision of him brought a younger Aniya to a hidden tent in the woods. The two were still dressed in their wedding attire, and it dawned on him that he would be watching their consummation. Young Kol kissed the girl passionately, holding her in his arms, as though he were afraid she would disappear if he didn't. He had stripped her gently, lightly tugging on the pieces of clothing she wore to ensure she was all right with it being removed.

Their laughter was drawn out with ringing, piercing Kol's ears before he finally pulled away from Aniya's touch, stumbling to the floor. He groaned, clutching at the sides of his head as he waited for the pain to subside.

"Kol," She whispered. Aniya took a step toward him, but ultimately decided against it. The magic she possessed now would be useless in the face of whatever had hurt him.

Several moments passed before Kol was able to prop himself up against his bedframe, the migraine beginning to subside. Aniya had taken the wash cloth he had given her and was able to run it under hot water before she offered it to him. Still, she was sure to keep her distance, afraid that she would hurt him again.

"I can help you with your magic," Kol said after a moment. He glanced at her, waiting for her expression to change. "I'm rather well-versed in teaching young witches--"

"We're of the same age," She cut him off. The corner of his mouth twitched, and she fought the warmth that was rising to her cheeks. "I passed away at eighteen."

"And I at nineteen," Kol said with a dry chuckle. It was rare that he spoke of the day his parents turned he and his siblings. He wasn't even sure what his mother had been planning until he noticed the doppelgänger blood beside her grimoire. Still, it was comforting to have Aniya's dry humor, regardless of the consequences at times. Regardless of how confused he felt just being in her presence. "Let me help you."

He understood one thing: the stars had demanded that he stay away from Aniya Grover. He'd been given every reason to stay away from her, every reasom to be cold and bitter toward her. Every reason to tell himself he was in love with Davina Claire, and he would be, for the rest of his godforsaken immortal life.

And still, he felt a pull towards her. As if some part of him demanded that he stay close to her, and do everything to ensure that she was safe, and protected. He couldn't -- wouldn't -- bring himself to understand why. No. For now, he would help her. Teach her to protect herself and control her magic. He would keep her at arms length, because at the moment, it was all he could bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how i feel about this chapter. aniya and kol's relationship is really complex and it can be hard to write. i hope you like it, though. please comment and vote ♡


	8. chapter seven : half light

❝ when you're in the half light,  
it's not you i see, and you live  
a half life. you only show  
half to me ❞

"THIS IS USELESS AND IN FRENCH," ANIYA GRUMBLED, TOSSING ONE OF THE GRIMOIRES TO THE SIDE. Kol glanced up to notice the teenage girl's face buried in her hands, and let out a chuckle. He set down the book in his hands and took the grimoire in his arms, looking through a few of the pages. She had been right on one thing: the spells were, in fact, useless. The only issue is that they'd been written in Portuguese.

Kol raised his eyebrow at Aniya, as if questioning her intelligence. "You're aware that French, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian are not the same languages?"

"I was birthed and killed in the New World, where the common language was English. My parents taught me the common and mother tongue. Pardon me if I was never taught the importance of Portuguese," Aniya huffed. The action had blown a thick section of hair out of her face, but it had fallen back into place almost immediately.

The corner of Kol's lips twitched as he saw the girl frustratedly bury her face in her hands. For a witch that was frozen at eighteen years old, she'd carried the mannerisms of someone much younger. It pulled at his heartstrings to see her like this, though he would never admit it. He watched as she begrudgingly lifted her head and began looking through another one of the grimoires, the afternoon sunlight reflecting off her dark waves. Kol looked at her, and he felt as though he could kill God himself.

"Would you like some assistance?" Kol asked, almost amused as Aniya struggled to push her hair out of her face. In the two weeks since she'd been resurrected, it had grown past her hips, so Rebekah would have to braid all of it into one large braid behind her head. Unfortunately, Kol had taken her out of the compound before the rest of the Mikaelsons could so much as wake up.

Aniya narrowed her eyes at him. "It isn't funny. You would experience the same issues if you were a girl."

"It's the twenty-first century now, darling. Men can grow their hair as long as they like," Kol waved her off, turning his attention back to the grimoire in his hands. He turned away from Aniya then, stating, "But if you insist you don't need help--"

The young witch narrowed her eyes at him, grabbing hold of the nearest object -- a bracelet -- and tossing it at his head. It hadn't hurt, of course, but she'd felt the need to inconvenience him.

"That is a priceless dark object," Kol hissed, immediately turning around to pick the bracelet off the floor. He set it down on the desk between them, glaring daggers at Aniya.

"On the contrary, I am a priceless dark object. That is a wristlet," Aniya clarified, a smug look painted over her features. She ignored the irritation radiating off Kol, and began to read the Latin words written in the book in front of her. Kol had spent hundreds of years practicing with witches across the globe, learning new spells and collecting grimoires. Aniya supposed it had been his compensation for no longer being able to practice magic himself, and she wondered what she would do with her immortal life.

Henry would only live the rest of his human life, though she hoped Rebekah would turn him. Perhaps he would agree, and spend the rest of his life painting in Paris or Rome. He hadn't mentioned ever wanting to travel, though he'd said his paintings had sold rather quickly in European countries. It was no wonder. He was talented, after all. But then, he was a good person; there was no telling how long he would live so long as he carried strong morals and a good heart.

She winced, blinking rapidly as she reread the same paragraph over again in the grimoire. It dawned on her that she'd gone through an entire page without soaking in the least bit of information. She groaned, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. The bastard hadn't even let her rest before choosing to drag her into French Quarter -- though, in truth, she had no right to complain. Kol had sworn that he'd have the grimoires to help her control her magic. Aniya was most concerned about her brother's life.

Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, unconsciously twisting at her ring as she read. Kol noticed the movement immediately. He moved to sit across from her, and looked up at her through messy strands of caramel hair. "How much of it do you remember? Your old life?"

"I like to think I can remember everything," She said with a shrug. She looked up from her book, eyes wandering to the attic ceiling as she tried to recall all the details of her old life. "I was born to Sagara and Anusaya. My mother nearly died giving birth to my brother and I, and my father was so afraid that he began to pray to the gods. He swore that so long as my mother, brother and I survived, he would dedicate his life to them."

The magic she practiced now required sacrifice. Her sacrifice and resurrection had only brought her a substantial amount of offensive magic, but larger spells would require more. 'An eye for an eye,' essentially. She would never be able to have plants grow beneath her feet again, or watch relief wash over an injured loved one's face as she healed their wounds. Her life would be tainted with blood and storms now, and with no one at her side, she wasn't even sure it had been worth the trouble.

Kol frowned as he watched the girl recall her backstory. It had made sense that his father had been afraid. Mothers rarely survived giving birth to two children, especially in the New World. Often, no amount of magic could save a mothers giving birth. Esther Mikaelson had been lucky to birth six children -- though, he supposed he would have to thank her deranged sister on that end.

The young witch began to pick at the skin on her fingers, the feeling of her nails against her hand grounding her to reality. She recalled the way her father had clung to his old grimoire as if it were the Bible. All of the rituals she and Vihaan had been forced to learn had been pulled from its texts, and internally, she wondered what he must have done with it when she and Vihaan hadn't woken up.

"I'm sorry I asked," Kol murmured, regretful. "My mother and father weren't exactly role models either. After our younger brother, Henrik, was attacked by wolves, they decided to use black magic to create the spell that turned us into vampires."

"The one that stripped you of your magic?" Aniya questioned.

He nodded, a humorless laugh escaping his throat. "That would be the one."

Aniya chuckled dryly, running her fingers over the hundred-year-old grimoire -- the useless hundred-year-old grimoire. "Yes. Well, I understand why you're brooding all the time now."

"I am not brooding."

"I can tell when you're lying, remember?" She reminded him, her pale pink lips widening into a playful smile. "Even when you're lying to yourself."

Kol narrowed his eyes at the girl, and quickly tried to snatch the grimoire from her reach. Predicting his actions, she slid it off the table into held it tightly to her chest, a triumphant look on her face. "Have you always been this unbearable?"

"Have you always been this mean?" Aniya mocked, causing Kol to smile and look down at his lap.

If there was one thing he had to admit about her, it was that she was sweet. Sweet enough that for a moment, he was glad that he was immortal, and that supernatural creatures existed. So long as there was such thing as resurrections and immortality, he would have the chance to learn more about her. This strange girl with a sharp tongue and doe eyes -- it was no wonder he'd fallen in love with her all those centuries ago.

"I'm joking, the answer's 'yes.' You're the meanest boy I've ever met," She exaggerated, a grin on her face as she set the grimoire down on the table. Aniya felt her eyelids growing heavy, and the aching pain she felt at the right side of her head. She wasn't used to staying up very long, and she could already feel the toll it was taking on her body. Still, she did her best to fight it. How long would it be until she was able to have a nice conversation with Kol again? Four weeks? Two months?

In an effort to distract herself, her eyes fell to the bracelet she'd thrown and she picked it up, examining the little piece. "What's this for?"

Kol's eyes fell on the small silver wristlet, and his smile faded. It had originally belonged to his mother, but over the years, it had landed in the hands of Kieran and Cami O'Connell. Several years ago, Davina Claire had used the object to resurrect his father, Mikael, in an effort to use him against Niklaus. It had failed, of course, and she later used it to bring Kol back to life. It was then that he promptly slaughtered her and struggled to bring her back to life.

He had absolutely no idea why he chose to keep it around.

"Nothing that concerns you, " He responded, quickly taking the wristlet from Aniya's grasp and shoving it into his back pocket. Aniya shrunk back, and he regretted his tone immediately. "It belonged to a girl I once loved. She's dead."

'Davina,' Aniya thought to herself, pulling at her ring as she slid it up and down her finger. She knew it would sting to hear him talk about another girl. The girl that he called out for in the dark, and the late hours of the night. Still, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "What was she like?"

"Powerful, stubborn, and very short-tempered," He said with a chuckle, swallowing the traces of guilt that stained his tongue. "She was a New Orleans witch, actually. A Harvest Girl."

It dawned upon Aniya that Davina Claire was all but perfect for Kol Mikaelson. A strong, powerful witch with the likes of Kol Mikaelson. Davina Claire, though dead, would have all of the values Aniya would never carry. Own all of the things that Aniya could never have. She'd been born in this century, and she'd been able to love Kol Mikaelson because of it. She had witnessed the tempests of the ocean, while Aniya would see storms of another kind. And she envied her for it.

She would envy her for the distant look on Kol's face when he spoke of her. Even in death, Davina had never truly died. She wouldn't, so long as people remembered her name. Aniya and Vihaan had died immediately, with no one to remember the names or faces. She wasn't even sure her parents had remembered their deaths, or where their bodies had been stashed once they were shoved into the Void. Regardless of whether she walked the earth, Davina had been immortalized, and Aniya wasn't even sure that Rebekah would remember her face if she died again.

One thing was certain though: Kol belonged to Davina Claire. He was no longer hers; at least, not in this lifetime. And her longing, heavy heart would have to admit it.

"Forgive me, but I'm feeling rather fatigued," Aniya said, clearing her throat. She stood from the wooden stool in front of the window and asked, "Could we go home now, please?"

"We haven't found anything," Kol argued, "We have hundreds of spells to look through. We've gone through maybe twenty."

"We have hundreds of spells that I can't read," She corrected. "I haven't slept in hours, Kol. Find me all of the Latin or mother tongue spells and I will read them, I promise, but I don't speak French, or Portuguese, or Spanish, or whatever other languages this world has to offer, and I certainly can't read them; so, please, I would like to rest."

The Original watched the reserved look on the witch's face shift to helplessness, and he shut his grimoire in defeat. He nodded and stood up. "All right; I suppose it's your choice. I'll walk you back to the compound."

"I can walk on my own--"

"No."

"And why not?" She questioned, folding her arms over her chest.

"Because there is a crowd of people in the street, and my siblings would put a dagger in my chest if they knew that I let you walk around alone," Kol quickly made up an excuse before ushering her out of the attic. He swallowed, ignoring the yearning feeling in his chest when it occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to speak with her again until much later. She was just a girl; and yet, he wondered if he was tempting fate with each second he stood by her side.

When they arrived at the Abattoir, he watched her go into her room, and ignored the angry rants of Rebekah, Elijah, and Niklaus. He'd cut them off after about ten minutes, stating that she was more than capable of handling herself, before he headed toward the attic once more.

It was several hours after the sun had set when it finally occurred to him how late it had gotten. A burning sensation took over his throat, dark veins beneath his eyes beginning to make their way through his skin.

The worst part about becoming a vampire had been in his inability to practice magic; though, the bloodlust did come at a close second. He snarled and shoved the notepad away, walking towards the window that hung over Bourbon Street. It was directly across from the Abattoir, a sort of cruel joke he had decided to play on his siblings in case they ever needed to find him. As clever as his brother was, he never would have thought to look in plain sight for his dear younger brother.

As Kol searched for his victim, as though he were a vulture stationed above a dying carrion, he caught a glimpse of a familiar girl exiting the Abattoir wearing a white scarf and long sleeves. Aniya was visiting her little human again.

The Mikaelson boy took a step away from the window, his eyes falling on the stacks of grimoires he'd made throughout the attic. Each sorted for a different language and alphabet, two-hundred of which he'd already gone through and made notes of. He nodded to himself, and shut the Arabic spell book he'd had open on his desk, setting his notebook down on top of it.

Jealousy creeped from his stomach to his throat, and he refused to fight his instincts as he sped out of the attic and into the streets of the French Quarter.


	9. chapter eight : just a boy

❝ i hate all the hurt that you  
put me through, and that i blame  
myself for letting you ❞

HENRY PEARL RAN HIS FINGERS OVER THE GOLD WIRED RING, a soft but victorious smile on his face. The small, handmade ring glimmered in the light he'd hung above his desk. The night before, he'd gone to the nearest voodoo shop to purchase the smallest garnet stone, ignoring the sunrise as he immediately ran back home and into his bed. Admittedly, he'd been afraid that the ring wouldn't turn out the way he wanted; but Aniya had always looked so heartbroken whenever she looked at her own, and there was a part of him that couldn't bear to see that look on her face as often as he did.

There was a part of him that believed she would never love him -- not in the way that he wanted her to -- and he wouldn't blame her, either. She looked like she could conquer the world with a movement of her wrist. She would want more out of the world and he would never be able to give it to her. She was beautiful, and extraordinary, and he was just a boy.

Still, he had to admit he's been happy lately, and he'd wallowed in it selfishly. Henry knew in his heart that it wouldn't last very long, but the was all the more reason to enjoy it in the moment. A few days ago, Aniya told him she found him intriguing, and he told her 'we are only interested by things we don't understand.'

Henry Pearl's eyes were big enough to take it all in: the world, Aniya, and himself. He could float through the sky and never come back down. He wouldn't need to.

He set the complex -- yet beautiful -- garnet ring down on his desk, next to a photograph of he and his mother on her birthday, when Henry was only eight or nine years old. Colla Pearl had been a beautiful woman, with emerald green eyes and medium brown hair; though she hadn't been a healthy one. It was when Henry was thirteen that she became sick, and it was at fifteen that she died. Neither Henry nor his father had dealt with it properly.

Frowning, he glanced up at the calendar, and it occurred to him that Colla's birthday would be in a few days. A sick feeling over came Henry, and it struck him that it would be eight years since her death.

The twenty-one year old boy was pulled out his thoughts when he heard rumbling and music playing from the living room. Henry listened for a moment, hoping -- praying -- the music wasn't what he thought it was. When he heard a crash, he shut off his lamp and quickly made his way out of his closet-sized bedroom and down the hall. He was met with a low ringing noise to his left, where his father left the home phone hanging off the desk.

He hesitated, but picked it up to his ear. A low buzz emitted from the phone, signalling that whoever his father had tried to call had hung up, and he carefully set it back down on the charger. As he proceeded down the hall, he looked to his left and noticed the empty bedroom that belonged to his father. The bedsheets had been jumbled together, and he'd left his night lamp on, as if he'd tried to get some rest but changed his mind all together. Underneath the bed was an empty six-pack of Coors Lite, and Henry grimaced at the sight.

"Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år!" The Swedish song played throughout the home through a single DVD player. The birthday song mocked the atmosphere, and dread filled Henry's stomach as he realized why his father, William Pearl, had chosen to stay up so late: he'd believed it was Henry's mother's birthday.

Sorrow crawled its way to Henry's throat, wrapping itself around his neck and squeezing as he reached to turn off the music. Henry's vision went glassy as silence filled the apartment once again, and he heard his father cursing him in the kitchen.

"What the fuck? We're having a party, Henry!" William complained, rushing over to the player and restarting the track. "We're gonna have one hell of a party!"

Henry's gaze flitted across the room as he struggled to keep eye contact with William. The fifty-year-old man was nearly nude, wearing only a pair of boxers as he opened a box of party supplies Henry had tried to hide in the attic. William dumped the box upside down on the wooden floors, and Christmas ornaments and streamers were sent flying across the living room.

"Papa," Henry began. His throat went dry as an old ornament flew across the floor: a photo of he and his parents that they'd taken at the mall. "Papa, please stop."

"Let's make it look nice, here at home," William declared, messily organizing the supplies into different piles. He made his way to the small kitchen table and Henry's new shipment of silverware onto the table. "Here, you set the table--"

"Papa--" He tried again, taking a small step toward his father as he climbed onto the couch in an effort to hang a 'happy birthday' sign from the windows. For a moment, he wondered where William had gotten the money to purchase it; then it occurred to him that he left twenty dollars on the kitchen table every night in case of an emergency. Henry's throat tightened as he realized that his father had been impulsively spending the money on alcohol and useless decorations. It wasn't as though either of them celebrated holidays.

"Here is her party, why aren't you happy? Don't you miss her?" William's tone changed as he looked back at Henry, his eyes reddened and crazed as he screamed, "Be happy, for fuck's sake!"

When Henry's expression didn't shift, William reached for one of the plates Henry had bought and tossed it in his direction, screaming "here is her fucking party!"

Henry felt pressure against his shoulder as the plate slammed against the right side of his body and fell to the hard ground. He watched as it shattered, and cringed, his expression shifting to one of helplessness. "Papa, please stop."

"What?" William turned back to his son, a bright smile on his face as he walked forward, grabbing Henry's head with his hands and holding it against his own. His breath wreaked of alcohol and whatever he'd eaten in the past few weeks.

Henry wrapped his arm around his father's shoulder and tried to lead him back down the hall. "Please, Papa, just go to bed. Come here."

"I can't go to bed now!" He exclaimed, casually fighting off his son's grip and placing his dirtied hand on his already bruised cheek.

The boy flinched away from his father's touch. "Let's go to bed, Papa, come on..."

"But I'm arranging a dinner party for your mother," William argued, a dazed smile on his face. Henry would have sworn he was having a psychological break, but he supposed grief did that to people. William had lost his wife; it was only fitting that he acted this way. Still, the longer he acted like this, the easier it would be for William to hurt himself.

Henry tried again, carefully reaching for his arms as he tried to walk him back to his room. He comforted, "You can do that tomorrow, c-can you come to bed now?"

"No, I'm very busy making a birthday dinner for your mom, so the fucking cunt can finally be happy!"

"Papa, calm down, let's go to bed--" The boy bargained, ignoring the icy feeling that grew in his chest. His father would always say cruel things during his episodes, especially about Henry's mother; but they still stung every time he said them.

William shrugged off his son's grasp, walking into the small kitchen where a pot of potatoes and -- was that dirt? -- boiled over the stove. Henry reached for the pot while his father was distracted with pouring a bag full of potatoes into another pot. He held it over the sink and filled it with water in an attempt to wash out what mess William had made while Henry was busy.

"What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!" His father cursed, snatching the pot from Henry's grasp and putting it back on the stove. Smoke rose from the burning potatoes, and the young boy did his best to wave them away from the detector and sprinklers. As his father threw random spices onto the food, he exclaimed, "I told you, we're having a party! Look, we're gonna eat potatoes and shit."

The older man brushed long, gray locks from his face and reached to turn on everything on the stove, despite using only two pots filled to the brim with potatoes. William turned the nozzle and the oven lit up, as Henry took another step forward. "No. No, Papa, go to bed--"

"Don't ruin the food, now!" William sneered. Henry gulped and reached to turn the stove off, but his hands were immediately grabbed by William. His father glared at him for a moment, raising his hand. A stinging sensation covered Henry's left cheek.

"Please, Papa--"

Slap.

"C-Can't you j-j-just--"

Slap.

A sharp pain quickly formed below Henry's eye socket, a jarring feeling in his skull as William's fist connected with his son's cheek. A bruise began forming on Henry's face as he met eyes with his father again, a tired but pleading look in his eyes.

"Why c-c-can't -- why c-can't you go t-to bed now, Papa? Please..." Tears fell from Henry's eyes, his hair disheveled and shoulders hunched forward as he looked into the eyes of his estranged father. He was met with a cold glare and reddened eyes. Henry swallowed, preparing for another hit, the left side of his face reddened and covered with tears.

William nodded after a moment, his jaw clenched as he stared up at his son. "I was just trying to make some food and make things right." He cleared his throat and looked around the kitchen before taking a step toward Henry. "Move the fuck out of my way."

Henry stepped to the side as William made his way back to his bedroom. He let out a low breath and walked toward the stove, turning off all of the nozzles and the oven, and tossing the pot of potatoes and gunk into the garbage. He thought for a moment, then unplugged the microwave and toaster as well. As Henry went to clean up the mess in the living room, he allowed himself to accept his reality.

He would never be able to live in his apartment in the Quarter. It would be his -- overpriced -- art studio, and nothing more.

A tear slipped from his eye as he made his way into the attic, where he had organized Colla's items into different boxes. Henry moved to look through her 'treasured items,' the ones that she'd kept close to her heart when she was alive. Dainty pieces of jewelry tangled together at the bottom of the box, next to an old journal. Henry's brows knitted together in curiosity as he reached for the small brown book.

The pages were stained brown, implying that Colla had gone out of her way to dip them into tea. A chuckle left Henry's lips as he began to read her Swedish writings. After a few moments, he realized the book hadn't been her private journal, but a notebook, where she'd studied different and rare types of witchcraft.

'Tyaag witches participate in several different rituals in order to achieve functional mortality. However, functional mortality is only offered to twins born with earth magic. Once achieved, the twins will be sacrificed on their eighteenth birthday. This will usually consist of a slit throat and a knife through the base of the skull, paralyzing and killing them.

'The base of the skull is the fifth chakra, and the mouth of God. Three days after their death, the witch twins are resurrected. Unfortunately, the memory of their friends and loved ones is wiped completely of their existence. This is due to the fact that the witches are promised a new life; and therefore, their slate is wiped clean.

'Tyaag rituals are notorious for failed resurrections, as if the children do not comply with the fifteen rituals they need to complete before their deaths, the sacrifice will fail, and they will remain in spiritual limbo for the rest of eternity.'

Henry shut the book immediately, remembering the wound on Aniya's neck. He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if his memory were an etch-a-sketch. He glanced outside and noticed the faded sunlight, and realized he would be late for his double-shift at the diner if he didn't leave soon.

He quickly reached for the wired ring and put it into a small white box, complete with a little ribbon. A smile made its way across his face as he quickly changed into his work uniform, all but giddy to see Aniya again.

As he made his way out of the cramped apartment in downtown New Orleans, he caught a glimpse of his father drooling into his white satin pillows. Henry paused, then went into his room, pulling the duvet over the man's chubby body and tucking it over him. He quickly picked up the pack of alcohol on the floor and shut off the light in his bedroom with a final breath of relief. He grabbed his things and locked the door behind him, making his way to his old Jeep.

Henry drove in peaceful silence, admiring the lights and music of the city before stopping at the dumpster behind the diner.

It was there that he tossed his father's pack of alcohol and his mother's box of party supplies. It wasn't as if either of the items would ever do him good. He was exhausted, and no longer sure he would live to his twenty-eighth birthday.

Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

________

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i knew that henry needed to have his own chapter eventually, as he is just as complex as aniya and kol, with his own goals and ambitions outside of being the person who works in the restaurant. that being said, henry is based off martin from the swedish movie 'behind the lights' and henry pearl from 'battlecreek.' please comment and tell me what you think! - trust


	10. chapter nine : tyaag

❝ i'm afraid that's just the way the  
world works; but i think that it could  
work for you and me. ❞

"HENRY."

Aniya's eyes widened as the boy stepped into the diner, the right side of his face red and bruised. She stood from her chair and rushed to stand in front of him, reaching her hand up slowly to touch the purple marks that began to appear on his face. Henry flinched away, eyes squeezed shut as if doing so would lessen the pain. Aniya grit her teeth together, and Ruby walked over, handing Henry an ice pack.

"Who did this to you?" Aniya asked as Ruby led Henry to an empty seat by the counter. A burning feeling filled her chest as she watched him wince at the cold feeling against his cheek, and she stood with her fists clenched despite Ruby's warning look.

"I-I-It doesn't m-m-It doesn't matter," Henry murmured, eyes glued to the floor.

She opened her mouth to argue, but shut it when she noticed the sad look on Ruby's face. The older woman's red lips were turned into a frown as she rubbed Henry's back comfortingly, and Aniya knew the answer immediately. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, burying her anger and the magic that would inevitably come with it. Instead, she took her seat next to Henry and watched as he turned to face the counter, glassy eyes trained on the counter top.

A tear slipped from his eyes, lips trembling as he held the ice pack to his cheek. Aniya mentally scrolled through a list of things to say, before she realized there was nothing she could say that he hadn't already heard. Instead, she moved carefully, turning to rest her head on Henry's arm. She fought back the sobs that wracked her body, shutting her eyes as she whispered to him,

"I'm sorry. Stay alive for me. Please."

Aniya had known this fear before. It was common for Viking men to treat their children terribly, and the people she loved had never been strangers to their cruelty. Vihaan and Niklaus in particular would come to her with bloodied faces and bruised ribs. Her brother had always been the golden child, but had taken the fall for Aniya's actions countless times.

"Love should never be punished," He'd told her, as if it had justified what he'd done. His efforts had been sweet in the moment, when he swore that he was all right and that his injuries would heal eventually. His thought process would change within a few days, when she found him in the forest with nothing but a length of rope in his hands. It had been Niklaus Mikaelson that talked him down each time this happened.

Dread filled her body as she held Henry's arm close to her. She knew when they met that Henry Pearl had radiated an inexhaustible light, and she didn't wish to imagine a world where it went out.

"I'll try," Henry said.

It was in that moment that she wished she'd woken up sooner. Before the world could even lay a finger on Henry Pearl, she wished she could've saved him.

She rested her forehead against his arm, eyes shut as she murmured the words, "I love you," beneath her breath. She'd said it more for herself than anything else, hoping it would ease the troubled feeling in her chest if she admitted what she knew to be true. As if admitting it would cause Death to turn its back on someone like Henry Pearl.

"Jag är kär i dig, också, " He murmured. Aniya thanked the gods for her upbringing, otherwise she might not have known what he said. She smiled through her tears, and they sat there as the time passed. Ruby stood at the other end of the diner, cleaning and taking care of the few customers that came in during the late hours of the night. They sat in silence, until Henry pulled a small box out from his pocket and slowly moved it towards her.

"What is this?" She asked, brows furrowed as she looked at the flattened white bow tied.

"O-Open it," Henry told her, his heart racing as she reached for the box. He swallowed nervously as she untied the ribbon and slowly opened the box, revealing the ring he'd worked on a few hours ago. The different gold wires wrapped around each other to create a band, and encircled a small garnet stone at the center. It resembled the older jewelry Aniya had seen in the village, worn by the Elders as a way of protecting themselves from dark spirits. Still, there was something unmistakably Henry about it. Some part of the small circlet that she would look at and remember as Henry, and Henry alone.

She bit her lip and looked up at Henry's pale green eyes, and she wanted to tell him being loved was a talent, too, for it was in moments such as this that she wondered if he knew how it felt to be loved unconditionally -- or if he had, and he'd somehow forgotten it. She wanted to tell him that it takes as much courage and as much work as loving; though, for some people, they never learn the knack. She prayed Henry wasn't one of them.

"I hope you're not proposing," She said with a chuckle. She reached for the choker beneath her sweater and pulled it off, bending the leather to slide the ring onto it and create a makeshift pendant. She smiled up at Henry and tied it back around her neck.

His pale lips formed a small smile, light green eyes lighting up in amusement. Aniya leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to his lips, sliding her wedding ring off her finger. His lips were softer than she'd imagined, and tasted of strawberry chapstick. She held his face in her hands and pulled away, looking up at Henry as she waited for his reaction. His eyes were wide, and he was vulnerable. There seemed to be something so tragic in a victim so colored by vulnerability.

After a few moments, Henry arose from his seat and began preparing a milkshake. Ruby assured him that she would let him have the night off. He frowned and shook his head, "N-No, I wanna..."

Henry prepared a vanilla milkshake and placed it in front of Aniya as he placed whipped cream at the top. She took a sip and he scooped a bit of the cream onto his finger, wiping it on her nose. She broke out into a smile and reached to do the same. Before he could respond, the door swung open, and she heard a familiar voice.

"So, this must be the human you've been leaving the house to see." Kol grinned as he marched into the small diner, a smirk painted across his face. "I must say, I thought he would be more handsome."

Aniya winced at his tone, and moved her body slightly so she stood in front of Henry. "How did you find me?"

"Love, we've had this conversation. Powerful little witch, remember?" Kol reminded her and went to sit at the counter, a seat away from her. "It might interest you to hear, but I spoke to one of my old witch friends here in the Quarter. As it turns out, you're a Tyaag witch. At least, that's what you're called these days. They don't have a very good reputation in the community, so they're very rarely written about."

"Why?"

It was Henry that spoke this time. "They have r-r-reputation for failed sacrifices."

"Oh, good. You're not utterly useless," Kol smiled up at Henry. The human boy shrunk back and took a step closer to Aniya, despite the counter that separated them. Kol turned his attention back to her and explained, "The sacrifices don't work if you cheat. You, thankfully, didn't marry your brother, and therefore, you two were forgotten and never heard from again."

"N-No, they would've been forgotten e-even if it w-worked," Henry pointed out. "Th-the point of, um, the point of T-tyaag witches is they sacrifice their o-o-old life for a n-new one, so..."

"Right," He shrugged him off. "Well, from what I've gathered, you're quite powerful. You could probably make my brother bend to your will if you tried."

"I don't want to do that," Aniya responded, swirling her straw through her milkshake. In the thousand years that she'd been dead, the Mikaelson brothers had managed to turn on each other. Niklaus and Elijah seemed to be rather close, while Kol stuck to himself and Rebekah floated in-between. She didn't know much about Freya. From what she was told when she was younger, Freya should've been dead.

"Yes, I suppose you're rather biased in that sense," Kol rolled his eyes. Aniya frowned at his behavior, but he ignored her. "Regardless, I was promised a few notes from the New Orleans witches. Once we master a few simple spells, you'll be able to resurrect your brother and return my memories."

"You need to stop," Aniya hissed. "There are humans here."

"Relax, darling, your human's already signed his death certificate. There's no point in acting this way," Kol chuckled bitterly. "Or haven't you heard? Loving a Mikaelson is a death sentence."

"I am not a Mikaelson."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "No. I suppose not."

Aniya bit the inside of her lip and turned to Henry. "Could you stay in the kitchen for me, please?"

Kol rolled his eyes as Henry walked to the back of the diner. His eyes drifted to Aniya and she grabbed hold of his jacket, pulling him outside of the diner and behind the building. Once they were out of hearing reach, she snapped.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to help you. I've singlehandedly found a way for you to both resurrect your older brother and restore the memories of the people you claim to love. I suppose you should be thanking me."

She clenched her jaw. "Do you want me to feel caught? Is that how I'm meant to feel?"

"You're flirting with another man while wearing your wedding ring--" Kol lifted her left hand, only to see that it was completely bare. His expression fell. Aniya looked at him blankly and slipped the ring out of her pocket, placing it in the palm of his hand. His stomach fell at the sight of the old, worn ring.

"You are not my husband. You cannot tell me how to live my life, and who I am allowed to love when it is another woman you are aching for each night." Aniya pushed his hand towards him as she looked at him, disgusted. "Do not ever speak to me that way again."

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Kol sighed. "All right. I'll fold." He paused. "I can't say much for that witch watching over your little human, though."

Aniya's eyes widened and she rushed into the diner, only to see an older woman sitting at the counter, smiling up at Henry. Her nostrils flared and she took a few steps forward. "You're a New Orleans witch?"

She spun around, her red lips forming a smirk when she locked eyes with the smaller girl. "I am. The name's Keres. You must be the Tyaag Kol mentioned."

Aniya glanced up at Henry. "How much does he know?"

"Just witches." Keres leaned to ward Henry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I could tell him more if you'd like--"

"No!" She spoke quickly, raising a hand to stop her.

Keres stared at her with amusement, but she sat back down. Aniya rushed behind the counter and stood in front of Henry. There was something wrong about Keres. Something about the older witch that made her nearly impossible to trust, and she wasn't quite sure where she could rely on Kol's judgement.

"So, you know the basics about Tyaag magic. An eye for an eye, a life for a life?" Aniya nodded timidly, and Keres continued, "You must have been the dense twin, then."

Henry opened his mouth to defend her, but Aniya stopped him.

"I guess I have to spell it out for you," Keres sighed. "If you want to bring back the memories of seven people, you have to erase the memories of seven people."

Aniya stiffened at her her next words, and she fought the urge to slam the witch through a window.

"Oh, and you have to kill someone if you want your brother back." Keres nodded toward Henry. "He can go first."


	11. chapter ten : esteemed bastard

❝ kiss me on the mouth  
and set me free ❞

TO BE CLEAR, Aniya Grover had never been talented at confrontation. Quite the opposite, really. Growing up, she’d been caught between her mother’s culture and that of the Vikings. Regardless, they’d both valued two traits in a woman: submissive, and quiet. She wasn’t to speak unless spoken to, not to act even when acted against. She was meant to cook and bear children for her husband -- something Rebekah had always rebelled against. Aniya, however, had learned to give into these ideals; and it was now, in the twenty-first century, that she was learning to lose them.

Aniya looked up at Kol, staring daggers at him from across the dining table. It had been several hours since they’d left the diner and returned to the Abattoir. Aniya had left first, refusing to say her goodbyes after nearly murdering the witch that suggested Henry’s sacrifice. It had been Kol that stopped her, claiming that she ‘was only trying to help.’ It was then that she left without another word. Kol followed shortly after.

When they returned, Kol called for his siblings to have a family meeting in the dining area. He excused Hayley and Hope, and gave Freya an open invitation despite not having met Aniya when she was alive. The two sat across from each other in the dining area, the air growing thicker with each second. Finally, they heard the sound of heels clicking against the pavement, and internally let out sighs of relief as Rebekah took her place next to Aniya.

“Now, what might this be about?” Rebekah asked, pushing her chair in. “Have you come to ask for a custody agreement, Kol?”

Kol smiled tightly at her, eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ll have to say ‘no’ to that offer, sister. I wouldn’t want to run off with your only friend. After all, no one else seems to like you.”

“Yes, well, at the very least, I have a friend,” Rebekah pointed out, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “You haven’t had a friend since the 1800s.”

“1700s, really,” Niklaus cut in, taking his seat at the head of the table. He smiled smugly, and folded his arms in front of him, blue eyes glimmering with delight. “I’m afraid he was daggered for most of that century.”

“That reminds me, I haven’t had the chance to return the favor,” Kol sneered and stood from his chair. Aniya’s brows furrowed at the harshness of his voice -- the way he seemed to growl the veiled threat at his half-brother. Slowly, she began to feel the weight of a thousand years on her chest. Whatever human version of Kol Mikaelson she’d loved had died centuries ago, and she began to wonder if all her suffering had been the result of pining after a person that no longer existed. If perhaps returning her memories would do more harm than good.

Subconsciously, she reached hand up to touch the ring around her neck. Kol noticed and glared.

She watched as Elijah placed a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder, suggesting that he take a seat. Kol clenched his jaw at his elder brother, but obliged, sitting back in his chair. Elijah nodded and took his place between Kol and Niklaus. He took a moment to adjust his appearance before giving a polite smile. Even this Elijah seemed foreign to her. More confrontational and protective, compared to the mere child he’d been before. He was well put-together, calm and a perfect mediator; and, in Aniya’s eyes, a perfect stranger.

“So, what did we need to discuss?” Elijah asked, looking around the table. Rebekah and Niklaus shrugged in unison, and it occurred to Aniya that Henry’s life would mean nothing to the Mikaelsons so long as they had what they wanted. It would be Rebekah who would be most eager to have her memories returned to her, and Niklaus who would want Vihaan resurrected and return to -- somewhat -- mortal life.

“It seems that Kol and a New Orleans witch have found a way to return your memories,” Aniya spoke slowly, watching for negative reactions among the siblings. Elijah and Niklaus had reacted the fastest, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion at her statement. Rebekah’s eyes widened as she turned her attention to the young witch. Aniya continued, “As well as a way to resurrect my brother.”

“Kol, the last thing we need to do is be involved with the witches again,” Rebekah spoke quickly.

“The witches have lost their link to their ancestors, and are being forced to practice Earth magic. They are at their weakest, meaning they will be willing to deceive and manipulate anyone who is foolish enough to play into their games,” Elijah explained. “In case you don’t remember, they were willing to sacrifice four teenage girls not ten years ago.”

“As if we’re any better,” Kol shot back. He paused for a moment, his gaze flickering in Aniya’s direction. “If it hadn't been for you and Freya, Davina might still be alive."

"If it hadn't been for me and Freya, the Mikaelson family line would have been murdered before your very eyes," Elijah corrected. "You may have loved that girl, but she was not your family."

Rebekah placed a hand on Aniya's hand, which had been resting in her lap. "That's quite enough from both of you. I'm sure there's a way Aniya can return our memories without having to confide in the witches."

"On the contrary, I have heard of her brand of witches less than a dozen times in my immortal life," Kol argued. "She refuses to practice magic unless provoked, so we aren't even sure she can do simple spells--"

"You do not speak for me," Aniya cut him off, narrowing her eyes at him. She turned to the Mikaelsons, wringing her hands as she spoke. "I possess an offensive magic. It's a finite source, depending on the state of my health in order to be put to use. As of late, I have combined it with defensive tactics, in which I essentially use nearby resources to protect myself against the attacker."

"And what the bloody hell does that have to do with memory erasure?" Rebekah questioned.

"It seems that when I was sacrificed, all traces of my brother and I's existence was wiped off the face of the Earth," Aniya responded. "According to Kol's little witch, I can return your memories by erasing the memories of others."

Nik spoke up finally, though his face remained blank as he processed the information. "And why would you need the help of New Orleans witches to achieve this? We have a witch, too. One who is not hellbent on returning to power at this very moment."

"Our dear sister practices earth magic, Nik," Kol said with a sickeningly sweet smile. "She's only practiced sacrificial magic once, she's barely familiar with the concept."

Aniya raised an eyebrow at his behavior. "Why are you so willing to hand me away to them? I'm not a New Orleans witch. They have no motive to help me."

"Their motive is that they are indebted to me, and this is their way of paying it off," Kol said with a shrug. "It only cost a few dark objects."

"You're interested in our marriage," Aniya stated. A light scoff left her lips and she crossed her arms over her chest. It had only taken a few short years of friendship to learn when Kol was lying. She'd recognized it in most of the Mikaelsons, outside of Niklaus. Each time, she'd been kind about it. Smiled politely and calmly asked for the truth. She took no interest in doing so now.

If he'd simply asked, she might have shown him the memories herself. It might have hurt his head, the way it had done the night before, but at least then she might have been able to prevent the wall of ice building itself around her chest. Not only as a result of Henry, but of his doubt. She wouldn't need a grimoire to teach her the spells she'd spent eighteen years memorizing. She wouldn't want it.

In her later years, her father began to teach heavier sacrificial magic. Spells to return or take away memories; to ensure the misfortune of an enemy; and spells to take a life. Her father had never taught her to return it, stating it wasn't the job of a witch to interfere with the will of the god's. It had been a pathetic excuse, of course, but she and Vihaan had kept their mouths shut.

"And you're interested in a human," Kol remarked. "How did he know about Tyaag witches? Perhaps he's a New Orleans witch himself."

He hadn't been. Henry Pearl had been perfectly human -- a tall, gentle mortal. He wouldn't have survived living in the village a thousand years ago, and she was afraid he wouldn't survive now. Perhaps she should have said goodbye after all.

Kol watched the pendant that hung from her neck, its velvet ribbon covering the darkened scar she'd refused to heal. She might have gotten hurt if she'd tried to return the memories on her own, and there was no telling whether she would know where to begin. Every time he so much as thought of her within Death's grasp, an aching pain seemed to spread through his body. Some part of him would have rather died than see her get hurt, and he was no longer sure how to fight that side off.

Turning his attention to his brothers, Kol pointed out, "You two are being ridiculous."

"And you are being reckless," Rebekah snapped. "I want my memories of Aniya back as much as you do, but I am not willing to risk the life we've built for Hope. Are you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he clenched his jaw and turned to walk out of the room. Rebekah let out a sigh and stood behind Aniya's chair, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure why, of all people, you chose to marry one of my brothers."

Aniya nodded, a look of defeat crossing her face. "He's the meanest boy I've ever met."

Elijah and Kol made their way out of the dining room after saying their farewells to the two girls. Rebekah accepted a forehead kiss from Elijah before taking her seat next to Aniya, a gentle smile forming on her pink lips as dark waves fell over Aniya's face. "Let me know when you want me to plait these. I'm sure you're quite famished after a night out with my brother."

"Quite," Aniya chuckled. "He was never like this."

Rebekah's smiled dimmed a bit. "No, he wasn't. I suppose it's a difference between who you are and the person you need to be in order to survive; and in the presence of Niklaus, whilst running from Mikael and fighting bloodlust, we all changed a bit. Tell me, have I always been this way?"

"Yes. I did admire you," She admitted. There had been a time during a bon fire, where she had chosen to stay indoors and help the women prepare food, while Rebekah stood outdoors and sat by the cattle. "Your father should have considered you a Viking."

"I am sure I have always been a Viking," Rebekah said with a small laugh. "I can't think of other people that traveled around the world on ships; but then, we were running from our father, so I suppose we were more pirates than anything."

Aniya's lips turned downward, her gaze falling to her hands. "The years not have been kind to you."

"They were not, but what of you? A thousand years of sleep?"

"Of nothing."

She recalled having woken up to nothingness. She was met with a cold, dark silence, as if someone had locked her in an endless room and shut the lights out. She remembered waiting for Vihaan, who'd been killed two minutes earlier, and screaming when she realized he wouldn't come for her. She could recall the pang in her chest, and the sobs that had wracked her body as she bargained with the gods to bring her back.

She'd been given someone who would observe her silently, capture all of her habits and flaws and loved her despite. Someone that had gotten lost in all of her features, and it had been ripped away from her. She'd been given a taste of freedom with each Mikaelson. Even little Henrik had been a chance for her to escape into a life she would never have: one where she might have raised a child.

And she'd been left with nothing.

After a moment, Aniya reached for Rebekah's hand shut her eyes, opening her mind to the Original. Rebekah fell into the void, and a few moments passed before her sight was able to adjust to her environment. She blinked, and notice a frail Aniya sitting a few feet away, her arms holding tightly onto her knees as she stared at the ground. She appeared to be the same way they found her: covered with dirt and dried blood. The blonde pursed her lips at the sight, and pulled her arm away from Aniya.

"There's no need to worry now," Rebekah assured her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're immortal. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

-

"WHY AM I HERE?" Aniya huffed as she stood at the gates of Lafayette Cemetary. Kol had promised her a milkshake. "Nik and Elijah agreed that we weren't to seek help from New Orleans witches."

"Nik and Elijah are not my fathers," Kol remarked, pushing the doors open. He stood and held it for her, causing her to stare blankly at him. "All of your problems would be solved if you did two simple spells. Both of which you would have aid in, if you only asked."

"They threatened Henry."

"And they shred the soul of my former lover. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Then why trust them?"

"Because we haven't a choice in the matter, and at worst, we double cross each other," Kol said, as if it were obvious. "I am well-versed in the art of massacres."

"Lovely. All the more reason to trust you," Aniya muttered and begrudgingly took a step into the cemetary. She hadn't returned since the night she was resurrected, though the Mikaelsons had dealt with the Hollow shortly after. They's done something with a parallel dimension or Geminis -- truthfully, Aniya never paid much attention to Nik's coffee chats.

"I feel caught," Kol snickered as he walked alongside her. He looked down at the shorter girl, his eyes barely glancing at the path in front of him despite the graveyard's sharp turns.

Aniya scoffed at his response, taking a moment to think before asking, "Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"

"What?"

"I despise you."

It was his turn to scoff. "You despise me. Why do you despise me?"

"With every chance you have to do the right thing, to be kind and selfless and caring; you are nothing but conceited, selfish, and miserable," She listed, despite the mocking look painted across Kol's face. Aniya rolled her eyes at his response. "I feel sorry for you, I really do. I just wish you'd bear it better."

"Well, you wouldn't understand, now would you? You've never had to watch who you thought was the love of your life, truly die."

Aniya stopped and turned to face him. She analyzed his every feature, his brows twitching in anger and eyes filled with spite as he looked back at her. His lips were somewhat pulled behind his teeth, as if baring them at her in defense. Even his posture looked as though he were ready to pounce, despite the fact that they'd only had a verbal argument.

She smiled tightly at his statement, fingers reaching for the old wedding ring before she remembered the previous night. "No. I'd move on if I couldn't be loved. I suggest you do the same."


	12. chapter eleven : mortality

❝ forgive me, for the things i  
did but most the ones i did not ❞

KOL WATCHED SILENTLY as Keres set a grimoire in front of him. The small building in the cemetary was lit up only by faded sunlight and several candles, scattered around the area. Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the witch, critical eyes watching for any reason to turn away from Keres and search elsewhere. Her mouth twitched when Keres suggested Henry Pearl's sacrifice, posture shifting at the smug look on the witch's face. Her fists clenched together, body void of any amusement as she prepared her attack against the younger witch.

Kol cleared his throat, stepping in front of Aniya. Frankly, he wasn't sure who he was protecting. He was only sure that there seemed to be a smug look on Keres's face. He narrowed his eyes, but quickly replaced it with a polite smile.

"The human is off the table, unfortunately. Perhaps we should move onto some other possible victims," Kol suggested. He all but shoved the grimoire in Keres's direction, a quiet suggestion that she find another solution.

It was an odd dynamic. Physically, Keres was much older than Aniya and Kol. She was a dark-skinned woman in her mid-to-late twenties, while Aniya and Kol were frozen in their teenage years. Still, Kol found himself a bit offended. Keres would have known to offer some respect to her elders.

Aniya lifted her chin, hand lightly pushing Kol to the side. She stared Keres in the eyes, as if daring the witch to lie to her. "You're quite insistent, aren't you? So willing to sacrifice my Henry for a spell you wouldn't stand to benefit from. Keres, he has no power; no ties to the supernatural world -- and yet, you suggest we trade his life for a thousand year old immortal witch?"

She had a sharp tongue for a girl her size. It was odd. She was different from the girl he'd found curled up in the foyer that night. Aniya Grover was strange, in a manner that made his lips curl at the edges and eyes glitter in amusement. She'd had a chameleon soul; an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and wavering as the ocean. Had it been Henry Pearl that awoke this fire within her?

Whatever the answer, Kol's stomach twisted at the seams. The thought of her wrapped in his arms was enough to make him gag. He couldn't bring himself to understand why.

Keres turned the grimoire in Aniya's direction, a smug look painted across her face as she pushed it toward her. "Sacrificed are more likely to work when the emotional bond is the same between the victim and the vessel. Tyaag spells are known for failing. It's more likely to work if you care as much about the person you're sacrificing, as you do the person you're trying to bring back. So, a best friend, a brother, a boyfriend..."

It registered then that Aniya had none of those. She'd only had Henry. Kol shifted his stance. If Keres's words were true and she chose to sacrifice someone she cared for, she could only choose Henry. As far as Aniya was aware, the Mikaelsons couldn't be killed. And regardless, she'd said once that they had all been family to her in her human days. Surely she wouldn't throw that away in exchange for a human she'd just met.

Surely she wasn't that idiotic.

Aniya's jaw clenched, a bitter smile spreading across her face. Her dark eyes bored into Keres's. "No."

Keres's eyes glimmered with delight, a smile spreading across her red lips. Her tone shifted, mocking the girl in front of her. "So you'll let an innocent human die in exchange for your brother? You are cruel, Aniya."

"He is innocent." Her confidence never seemed to waver. Her right hand clenched into a fist, the whites of her knuckles beginning to peak through her olive skin.

"Perhaps we should focus our attention on smaller spells," Kol cut in, the rising tension in the room seeming to eat away at him. "How many humans do we need for the memory spell? Fifteen? Fifty?"

"Five." Keres stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "One for each of the Mikaelson siblings."

Aniya questioned, "I thought Finn died."

"Mikaelsons never properly die. We never learned," Kol responded, then turned back to Keres. He would explain later. "Five humans in exchange for decades of memories. It's quite simple, don't you think?"

"You were humans when your memories were erased, so we only need to erase human memories." Keres explained. "They all need to be eighteen at the youngest and in their thirties, at the oldest."

Aniya frowned. "And what of Mikael and Esther? We won't be returning theirs?"

Kol nearly laughed at her question, the past centuries replaying in his brain. Mikael had hunted he and his siblings for centuries, in the hopes of murdering Niklaus and doing God knows what with the rest of them. He'd been killed and brought back countless times, once in particular as a result of Davina Claire.

Esther had been murdered by Niklaus a thousand years ago. She was killed and brought back several times as well, and each time she'd carried a sort of vendetta against her own children. It was as if she'd made it her life's goal to wipe them from the face of the Earth. But then, it had been Esther that had resurrected him in the body of a witch, and it had been Esther that introduced him to Davina.

Part of him resented her for it. Davina had made him a better person, that much was true. He'd fallen in love with her, convinced himself that the moon and sun rose and fell by her will alone. She had bewitched him, in ways he could not bring himself to justify nor understand. It had been Esther that introduced the pair; but then, it had been their meeting that caused Davina's death in the first place.

A heavy weight seemed to drop onto his chest. Aniya would never know the cruelty of his mother's actions. He might have envied her for it, but there seemed to be this part of him that felt a bit relieved.

"You're better off assuming they've truly died," Kol said after a moment.

"You two really have a thing for being melodramatic. Y'all deserve each other," Keres stated. "I'll get everything you need for the spell. Bring me five people, and I'll erase one year of their lives for each year you knew the Mikaelsons."

Aniya lifted an eyebrow. "And how do you benefit from this?"

"My people have lost their ties to the ancestors. We have no power and no idea how to practice earth magic. Tyaag magic is the closest thing we've got, so I wanna learn more about it," She answered almost too perfectly.

"These spells can't be practiced by ordinary witches--"

"So we'll make a new branch of magic," Keres shut her down immediately. "One where we don't have to die to become all powerful."

Aniya's face twisted into a glare, baring her teeth at the witch. Kol narrowed his eyes at Keres, immediately understanding the gravity of the situation. Tyaag magic had been forgotten, buried and disrespected for centuries. It had originated from polytheistic beliefs, with the hope of appeasing their gods. Aniya and her brother had given their lives to sacrificial magic and rituals, and now it would be stolen and forgotten without so much as a thought.

"People have lost their lives to practice these rituals," Aniya said. "You mean to tell me that you're willing to put the lives of children on the line, for the sake of convenience. You have the ability to practice earth magic, why not use it?"

"I'm trying to help you. Why ask so many questions?" Keres spoke as if Aniya were a child, trying to put her back in her place. Aniya seemed to fall back under Keres's gaze.

"I'll provide you your humans. I'll need only a few days."

She turned on her heel and made her way out of the cemetary building. Kol stared after her, a small voice in his head screaming to defend her against Keres. Before he could so much as let out a word, Keres said, "She's stubborn. You might want to find your humans sooner. I'm sure Klaus will figure out you're lying eventually, and we wouldn't want that."

'No.' Kol would be daggered and shoved in a box before he could begin to defend himself. In regards to Aniya, there was no telling how he would react to a betrayal from someone so foreign, and vulnerable. For all he knew, she would be killed as a form of punishment. His consequence for disobeying direct orders.

Niklaus had become a madman, a dictator over the years. Perhaps he'd spent a bit too much time with King Louis. Whatever the reason, it occurred to Kol that there was no telling how he would respond to twenty years of ancient memories being thrust toward him. He had hoped the twins had been close with Niklaus in their past lives. Then he might be a bit more lenient about completely slaughtering the poor girl.

Kol nodded half-heartedly at Keres and made his way out of the cemetary. Maybe there would be some humans in his path, grieving over a lost lover or family member. Maybe they would be heartbroken enough to wish to forget their grief, exchanging it for a bit of amnesia and the aching feeling that they were missing something... indespensable.

To be quite honest, Kol wasn't sure how he found himself in front of Davina's grave, how he'd somehow managed to wander there despite the exit being several paces away. He was met with a crack in the cement, the old stone beginning to harden, immortalizing the girl that lied behind it. He knew that he could not make anyone understand the insurmountable grief he held in his chest. He could not make anyone understand what was happening inside him, and he could not begin to explain it himself.

Immortals such as he should not have been able to love the way humans do. Humans loved based on survival, lived viscerally and vulnerable out of fear of their own morality. With the destruction of the stake, Kol feared nothing of the sort. Davina had feared it all, and she had loved him regardless of his dirtied fingers and blood-drenched lips. She had saved him, resurrected him when his family had all but forgotten him once more.

He knew he should have had the courage to move on. Humans die, witches die. It was what they were made to do -- and yet, he simply couldn't bring himself to let go of the girl that had loved him so dearly. The one that had given so much to ensure he would come back. He owed her that much.

It was when he turned the corner that he was pulled out his thoughts, attention now focused on a drunken man tossing old beer at a gravesite. Kol lifted an eyebrow.

"Excuse me." He made his way towards the man. The old man couldn't have been any younger than forty, perhaps fifty. He would be able to fill in for Finn. Nearly thirty years of memories shouldn't have too much of an affect on a bastard such as this.

"Oh, hello," He slurred, words tainted with a heavy Swedish accent. The man moved recklessly, beer spilling out of the bottle and landing on the ground. Kol wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Please, ignore me. I'm simply having a drink with my wife."

"Yes. Well, you're being quite disrespectful to her memory. Most men would kill to have had a happy marriage," Kol paused for a moment, his eyes fixating on the man's bruised knuckles. A bitter smile formed on his face. "Tell me about your wife."

"Ah, she was beautiful. We met in secondary school, you see. She was this tall brunette girl, quite beautiful in her own way. Our parents despised each other, a sort of Romeo and Juliet-esque situation. We were together for two years before we ran off to America, claiming it was for university purposes." The old man had a tendency to stop in the middle of his sentences, taking a short sip of his drink. He let out a laugh. "My son does love to keep me away from this stuff. Says it's bad for me, the fucking idiot."

"Your son," Kol repeated, gaze flickering to his knuckles once more. His mouth began tasted of blood, a hatred beginning to sear inside of his chest. "Tell me, how did you manage to end up in New Orleans?"

"Ah, it was our first stop. Woman wanted to go to Tulane or whatever it was, but she chose me over her studies. Smart move on her behalf, perhaps one of her only ones," The man chuckled. "A while after, we found she was expecting. We had a boy, and she became ill a few years later. I stayed by her side during that time. I had promised her till death, of course. She was ungrateful nevertheless."

"How's your son?"

"Ah, he's all right now. Twenty-three, but works in a diner like his mother. Fucking idiot doesn't know how to make something of himself," He scoffed. "Sleeps all day, too."

It clicked then. Kol felt as though he'd ate the world raw. He nodded to himself and grabbed the man, wrapping a hand tightly around his mouth and squeezing until he went limp in his arms.


	13. chapter twelve : parallel

❝ what does one do with life when  
one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

"Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

"No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

"She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

"You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

"It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

"I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

"You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

"How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

"I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

"Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

"My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

"What was his name?"

Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

"It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

"You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

"My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath. "Where is she now?"

"Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

"And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

"In my experience, love never dies."

"How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

"I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

He obliged.

"Drop it. Raise your right hand."

He obliged. She had control of him.

"Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest — the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

"Kol?"

"Yes?"

"What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

"Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

"You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost. Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

"Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

"Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

"I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

"You're going to see your human."

"Is that so bad?"

He hesitated. "I suppose not."


End file.
